/ 



A VISIT 



TO 

PORTUGAL AND MADEIRA. 



BY THE 

LADY EMMELINE x STUART WORTLEY. 




LONDON: 
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 

i 

1854. 



°e>* 



LONDON : 

Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq. 



THE DOWAGER LADY WHARNCLIFFE 

BY HER 

MOST TRULY AFFECTIONATE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, 
THE AUTHORESS. 



LISBON. 



1 



CHAPTER I. 



I will not inflict on my readers the ordinary details 
of our departure from England, the most prominent 
incidents of which were those leave-takings that an 
old French song (a very liberal translation of which, 
of mine, I append) animadverts upon as rather 
supererogatory sufferings : — 



1. 

If we must then depart, — 
As we turn us away, 

Can it soothe the sacl heart 
An Adieu thus to say ? 



2. 

Ah ! felicity vain, 

That the heart dares not seize ; 
Still too, too near to pain, 

To have power to please ! 



3. 

It can wound — can it bless ? — 
That Farewell of our friends ? 

Too much certain distress 

With th' uncertain joy blends ! 

B 



2 



LISBON. 



4. 

A strange luxury seems this, — 

On our sorrow to dwell ! — 
Tis a dark, baleful bliss, 

The deep, faltering Farewell ! 

5. 

'Tis a bitter-sweet joy, 

Worse than grief's tutor'd calm, — 

So much certain annoy, — 
So uncertain a balm. 

6. 

It enhances our grief, — 

It drives home the keen dart ; — 

'Tis a doubtful relief 

To condense thus the smart! 

7. 

Ah ! felicity vain, 

That the heart dares not seize ; 
Still too, too near to pain, 

To have power to please ! 

8. 

Please ? — Farewell ! — sad Farewell ! — 
Thou'rt a death, — thou'rt a doom, — 

Yet we dream thy brief spell, 

Can shower light through our gloom. 

9. 

A false solace thou art ! — 

Must our own tongues then tell 

That dark tale to the heart, 

Which is breathed in " Faeewell?" 

We arrived at Lisbon on the 31st of October 
in 1851, after a tolerably prosperous voyage, during 
which we experienced only a proper amount of 
tossing in the Bay of Biscay, just enough for the 
said Bay to keep up its character, and for those 



LISBON. 



3 



passengers who wished to be considered good sailors 
not to lose theirs. 

We had made the same voyage once before ; and 
when we came to the charming Bay of Vigo, its 
pretty features smiled upon us like those of an old 
acquaintance, and the scene enacted by the different 
occupants of the numerous boats that surrounded 
oar steamer seemed so exactly the fac-simile of the 
one we had previously witnessed in that pleasing- 
locality, that it appeared as if the same shrieks were 
calling forth the same echoes, — as if the same iden- 
tical tongues were wagging, the same hands waving, 
heads bobbing, throats stretching, arms extending, 
locks streaming in the wind, oars dripping, hand- 
kerchiefs fluttering, feet stamping with impatience, 
noses poking out with curiosity, eyes starting from 
their sockets with eagerness, and fruits glittering 
in the sunshine, in .those dancing boats, as had 
greeted us when we first, some years ago, entered 
the harbour. Nay, one could have almost believed 
(so precisely similar were scene, sound, and every- 
thing) that they had never left off, but gone on 
unintermittingly, gleaming, wagging, dripping, 
poking, fluttering, waving, stamping, shrieking, 
stretching, and staring there. And did not that espe- 
cial particular quarrel take place before ? — that exact 
chorus of screams and yells ? — that self-same scram- 
ble from one boat to another ? — that very collision 
among the wee barks, and that pitched battle of 
hair-tearing, which threatens to end in an exchange 
of scalps ? We depart, and leave them all at it still : 
if we should visit Vigo a dozen years hence, I feel 
convinced we shall find the same scene going on 
uninterruptedly — aye, to a hair, or, at any rate, to 
a handful of it. Our steamer was rather crowded. 



4 



LISBON. 



Among the passengers was Lady L T , 

who is one of the most extraordinarily gifted amateur 
female artists I ever met with, besides being a charm- 
ing person, of whom any other artist would have been 
delighted to make a sketch as she stood with her scar- 
let handkerchief most picturesquely twisted among, 
her dark, burnished locks, a la Espafwla (for I am 
told the women wear it so in some parts of Spain). 

At length the lovely little castle of Belem glad- 
dened our vision, — that tiny, delicate building (at 
least so it looked from the steamer), which the 
Queen of Portugal might almost have had put 
under a glass case and sent to Hyde Park, to be 
put under the other glass case there. Such a toy of 
a fortification as it is ! One should think its cannon 
must be loaded by nothing more awful than peas, 
such as children wage war with. 

After this, we soon found ourselves on terra 
firma. 

The Custom-house at Lisbon has a bad name, 
and deserves it : what a cruel institution it is ! We 
should not boast too much of our superiority over 
what we are pleased to call the dark ages : they 
had their grand Inquisition — we have the Custom- 
house. It is not only racked muslins and calicoes 
that suffer there, thumb-screwed gloves, or dismally 
dislocated caps ; who can deny that harmless travel- 
lers are themselves put to the torture, thus bereaved 
of the clearest lace, and torn from the tenderest 
cambric ? A Scotchman and his wife — the former 
in very ill health, who had come to Lisbon to pass 
the winter months by the advice of his doctor, — 
were our companions in the boat that took us to 
the shore. The poor Scotch lady had almost all her 
things seized, and loud and bitter were their com- 



LISBON. 



5 



plaints. Yes ! she declared she had lost shawls 
that had wound themselves (frequently) closely about 
her heart, and friendly pocket-handkerchiefs that 
had dried up all her bitterest tears. However, it 
was whispered the Custom-house had some slight 
reason for these arbitrary measures, and that the 
trunks of the travellers from the Land of Cakes 
were not altogether immaculate trunks, and that 
their strong-looking boxes w T ere not quite " pure 
as unsunned snow" and impervious to imputation 
and suspicion, whatever they might be to salt 
water. So even the Lisbon Custom-house might 
for once be justified in its stern decrees and prac- 
tices; and it is certainly true, as says the Portu- 
guese proverb, " Ncto he o demo tarn feio conio o 
pintcto or the English one, " The lion is not so 
fierce as his picture." 

We secured charming apartments at the Bra- 
ganza Hotel, and were delighted with the beautiful 
view from our numerous and extensive windows, 
and our very pleasant balcony, looking over the 
Tagus and the city. A brief account of the latter 
may not, perhaps, be uninteresting. 

Lisbon is a very ancient city, and little is known 
of its first founders and inhabitants. It is thought 
by some who have studied the subject to have been 
originally founded by Ulysses, and named " Ulys- 
sipo" after him. Lisbon in former ages could not 
have failed to attract the notice of the Carthaginians, 
who were masters of the sea for such a vast number 
of years, and who could not have overlooked the 
advantageous situation of this city, with its superb 
river and safe harbour. 

I believe that Gruter and Pliny affirm that 
the original name of Lisbon was " Olisippo," or 



6 



LISBON. 



cc Olisipo," a Phoenician term signifying " Pleasant 
Bay," and having reference to its position. On 
this city the title of " Pelicitas Julia" was bestowed 
by the Romans under Augustus (Beja was distin- 
guished by the denomination of "Pax Julia") j under 
that emperor, too, it enjoyed the privileges of a 
Roman municipium. Prom the reign of Augustus 
to that of Honorius nothing remarkable took place 
here. Then legions of barbarians fell, like clouds of 
destructive locusts, on the fertile territories of the 
Peninsula, passing over the natural barriers of the 
Pyrenees, after overrunning and blighting the best 
and loveliest portions of France and Italy. Uncul- 
tivated and uncivilised as were the tastes of these 
savage hordes, they were no! insensible to the 
charms and fascinations of fair Lisbon. The inha- 
bitants, seized with a profound panic, adopted the 
temporising policy of which imperial Rome had set 
"them an example, and they were, in their turn, sub- 
jected to a corresponding ill-fortune. They bribed 
the enemy to depart by pouring out enormous trea- 
sure at his feet ; he vanished, and in the course of a 
brief twelvemonth reappeared, and the devoted city 
was then thoroughly sacked and pillaged. 

In neighbouring Iberia every considerable city 
suffered the same destruction. The Goths main- 
tained their savage sway over Lusitania for a couple 
of centuries. It was at the commencement of the 
eighth century that these barbarians were compelled 
to yield before the superior might of the Mussul- 
mans, who, flushed with victory and triumph, had 
crossed over from Mauritania into Iberia. The 
name of the present capital of Portugal was changed 
by the Arab conquerors from C£ Lispo," or "Ulissipo," 
to "Lisboa." The reason of this, says Castro, among 



LISBON. 



7 



other writers, is that in the Moorish alphabet the 
letter/? is not found. 

Don Alfonso, king of Asturias and Gallicia, first 
disputed and shook the Arabian sway in Lusitania. 
With the aid of Charlemagne he entered Portugal, 
and invested Lisbon in the year 798. After an 
obstinate resistance, the besieged yielded to the 
arms of their gallant foes. For nearly three hundred 
years the Moors and the Christians kept alternately 
and transitorily an insecure possession of the place, 
till the latter became finally tributary to Alfonso of 
Castile, sixth of that name, in 1 093. They continued 
in this subjection under Count Henry, the founder of 
the Portuguese monarchy, but rebelled against his 
successor, Alfonso Henry, the first Christian monarch 
of Portugal. This sovereign made numerous at- 
tempts to reduce the capital, but was constantly 
baffled. Prom the Cintra mountains he one clay 
observed a fleet of nearly two hundred sail, French, 
Flemings, and English, under the command of Wil- 
liam Longsworcl, making for the river. This fleet 
was on its way to the Holy Land, but required water, 
and touched here for that purpose, and to repair some 
damages they had suffered. They agreed to a pro- 
posal of alliance, submitted to them by the Prince ; 
and the troops in their ships, numbering 14,000, were 
drawn up before Lisbon, together with the Portu- 
guese forces. The siege lasted five months ; and the 
loss on both sides was very considerable. On St. Ur- 
sula's day the confederate hosts made a fierce assault, 
and, sword in hand, succeeded in carrying the city. 
Faria says that 200,000 Moors fell on that day. 
The most ancient church in Lisbon, " Nossa Sen- 
hora dos Martyres," was built over the collected 
remains of all the foreign troops who were slain 



8 



LISBON. 



during this famous assault. Crowds repair still to 
that church every year, to assist at the " No vena ;" 
and from its altar the devoted courage of the 
Christian warriors is recalled to remembrance. 
The Novena precedes the celebration of the 
festival of Oar Lady of Martyrs. Dom Alfonso be- 
stowed Alrnada and Villa Franca on his English 
auxiliaries (the greater number of the warlike ad- 
venturers were from the Anglo-Saxon shores). It 
is supposed they called Villa Franca " Cornelia/' in 
affectionate remembrance of the British Cornwall, 
whence many of them originally came. It is asserted 
that the first Bishop of Lisbon was an Englishman, 
who had accompanied the before-mentioned fleet, 
and who remained in Lisbon : he was noted for 
his worth, piety, and learning. Pew events of im- 
portance after this marked the history of Lisbon, 
till the accession of Ferdinand, about the termina- 
tion of the fourteenth century, when a terrible fire 
almost entirely destroyed this capital. It was the 
work of Dom Henrique, a claimant of the crown, 
who took possession of the lower portion of the 
city, but, failing to reduce the castle of St. George 
and its strongly -fortified environs (the sole part not 
already in his hands), he determined to draw off his 
troops to some distance, — before doing this, how- 
ever, he razed the rest of the fortifications, and then 
lit the incendiary flames. Some writers, indeed, say 
that, anticipating the patriotic, self-sacrificing deed 
of the Russians at Moscow, the inhabitants set the 
city purposely on fire, to deliver their country from 
the abhorred invaders. Peace was declared after 
this ; Ferdinand agreeing to the terms dictated by 
Dom Henrique. 

On Ferdinand's death, his widow, Donna Leo- 



LISBON. 



9 



nora cle Telles,* assumed the direction of affairs, as 
regent for her daughter, Donna Beatrix, who had 
been married to the Castilian king. Dom Joao, 
however, the son and heir of Peter and the unfor- 
tunate and lovely Inez de Castro, was at this junc- 
ture proclaimed in the capital. The ill-fated Dom 
Joao, upon this, was seized and incarcerated in 
Spain ; and, a little while subsequently, the King 
and Queen of Castile were proclaimed by Leo- 
nora, to the universal dissatisfaction of the popu- 
lation, in Lisbon. This Leonora de Telles, who 
was noted for her wickedness, by her infamous 
conduct and iniquitous administration, and her 
constant and evident partiality for foreigners, 
heightened the exasperation of the Portuguese to 
a pitch of ill-disguised fury. It happened that a 
rumour spread suddenly through the city to the 
effect that Dom John, brother of the deceased 
king, and Grand Master of the Order of Avis, had 
assassinated, or caused to be assassinated, in the 
palace, one of the favourites of Donna Leonora (her 
chief counsellor, a Spaniard, named Joao Fernandez 
Andeiro, whom she had made a Count) : the people 
of Lisbon flew to arms, and, encountering the Bishop 
Don Martinho, a Spaniard, and another creature 
of the profligate queen, they hunted him to the 
cathedral. He ascended the tower and rang the 
bells, hoping to summon the soldiers to hasten to 
his aid; this so infuriated the excited populace, that, 
breaking tumultuously into the cathedral, they 
dashed him savagely from the top of the tower, 
where he had vainly sought for a refuge. They 

* This Donna Leonora was his second wife, his first, 
whom he repudiated, having been the daughter of Dom 
Henrique. 



10 



LISBON. 



afterwards hastened to the palace of Don John, and 
by acclamation elected him Regent. The King of 
Castile on this entered Portugal with numerous 
forces, and besieged its capital by land and sea. 
The Regent, though reduced to great straits, — want- 
ing both men and money, — exerted himself in de- 
fat igably to defend his cause and country. Through 
his skill and energy, great success attended his 
various efforts. The Prior of Crato, whom he en- 
trusted with a commission to assemble troops in 
the north and invade Castile, was victorious in sun- 
dry important engagements. A powerful squadron, 
equipped in Oporto, took several of the hostile ships, 
and ultimately blockaded the fleet of the Spaniards 
in the Tagus ; and the foe, wearied at length of the 
siege, and disheartened by a dreadful pestilence which 
broke out in his camp and impoverished his forces, — 
alarmed, too, by the report that a considerable body 
of troops, under the command of Alvarez Pereira, the 
Lord High Constable, was advancing from Evora, — 
with disorderly precipitation broke up the siege, and 
retreated ignominiously, with the wretched remains 
of his once noble army, into Spain. The Regent, 
by a solemn act of the Cortes, in the commence- 
ment of April (13S5), was selected to succeed to the 
crown, held to be vacant by the incarceration of the 
ill-fated Dom Joao in Castile), and which was pro- 
nounced to be forfeited by the Castilian sovereign, 
owing to his hostile invasion. This khi£, who reigned 
as Dom John I., soon afterwards gained the memo- 
rable victory of Aljubarrota, in which 30,000 Cas- 
tilians are said to have been defeated by a handful 
of Portuguese. 

In the year 1496 took place the discovery of the 
passage to the East Indies by way of the Cape of 



VASCO DA GAMA. 



11 



Good Hope. After some insignificant expeditions, 
followed by more adventurous but unsuccessful 
attempts, on the 20th of March, 1497, an inconsi- 
derable squadron sailed from the Tagus under the 
orders of Vasco da Gama ; he succeeded, after ar- 
duous efforts and many perils, in doubling the 
Cape, and arrived prosperously at the city of 
Melinda, which he found inhabited by a partially 
civilised population, carrying on commercial rela- 
tions with many nations of their coast, and also with 
distant countries of the Asiatic continent. Aided 
by their pilots, he crossed the Indian Ocean, and 
landed on the Malabar coast four months and two 
days after he had quitted the Lusitanian shores. 
His ships arrived in the Tagus two years after they 
had started on their highly -successful expedition, 
freighted with various commodities from the last- 
mentioned coast, and also with rare and costly pro- 
ductions of the more eastern portions of India ; and 
the enterprising Vasco da Gama and his gallant 
followers disembarked amidst the enthusiastically- 
expressed gratulations and greetings of his admiring 
countrymen. The Portuguese deserved their tri- 
umph ; their spirit of enterprise had been cautious 
and wary in its early operations, but had soon gained 
force and power. After going beyond the farthest 
limits of ancient navigation, and finding that the 
torrid zone was peopled — by some it had been pro- 
nounced uninhabitable — and that the African Con- 
tinent, in lieu of spreading in breadth (according to 
ttolemy's judgment) towards the west, seemed to 
contract and bend in towards the east, they felt in- 
spired by fresh zeal, and hopes were awakened in ' 
them of reaching India, by holding on the same 
course : the upshot of this was their final success, 



12 



REVOLUTION. 



through the instrumentality of their famed navigator. 
The important discoveries made by Vasco da Gama 
during this momentous voyage paved the way to all 
the mighty results which the enterprise and energy of 
later days have achieved ; and great were the advan- 
tages almost immediately secured to the Portuguese 
nation by them, — advantages which, ere this, they 
had not ventured to form a hope of possessing. The 
sumptuous treasures of the superb and luxurious 
East through this new channel were for centuries 
poured in an uninterrupted stream, and lavished on 
the enriched banks of the Tagus, and Lisbon rose 
with almost unparalleled rapidity to shine as one 
of the most splendid and commercially important 
cities, and one of the most crowded and busy ports 
of Europe. King Emmanuel built the fine church 
and monastery of St. Maria de Belem, as a sign 
of gratitude for the happy issue of this famous 
voyage. 

The revolution which ended by placing the 
house of Braganza on the throne, first burst forth 
in Lisbon on December 1, 1640. The Spanish do- 
minion was overthrown, and Dom John, eighth 
Duke of Braganza, proclaimed King of Portugal. 
This important event, which gave the crown to the 
present reigning family, is commemorated by an 
annual procession in the capital on the 1st of De- 
cember. It is said, so well were the measures of 
the patriotic conspirators concocted, and so promptly 
and vigorously were they carried into execution, that 
the whole active revolution took only three hours to 
bring to a successful termination. Had it been in the 
present day, they might almost have dared the Mexi- 
cans to a revolutionary race, with some chance of com- 
peting with those accomplished insurrectionists. The 



MARQUIS OF POMBAL. 



13 



somewhat slow Spaniards could have had hardly time 
to finish the cigars they were actually smoking, or 
to put on their " sombreros/' and begin to prepare, 
before the mighty scheme was accomplished. After 
this, the succession to the throne was quietly settled, 
and well that it was so ; for, at one period (after 
Cardinal Dom Henrique's death, who had succeeded 
Sebastian), there were no less than five candidates 
for the crown. 

Let us say a word on the conspiracy of 1760, 
which took place under the administration of the 
Marquis of Pombal. This statesman was execrated 
and abhorred at home and abroad for his Machia- 
vellian dissimulation, almost unparalleled atrocities, 
enormities, and barbarities. Few Christian admi- 
nistrations have been distinguished by a course of 
such flagrant crimes and cruelties. State prisons, 
built by himself for the purpose, were crowded with 
innumerable miserable wretches who had unfor- 
tunately fallen under his displeasure, and who 
were immured there, without a shadow of justice 
or the least apparent reason. He gathered together 
immense sums out of the confiscated possessions of 
his unhappy victims ; he swayed the counsels of 
the sovereign, King Joseph, with unbounded power 
and influence ; every situation about the court, in 
the army, or in the civil services, was given to his 
followers and friends. The nobility were crushed 
under his iron heel ; the people groaned under his 
arbitrary power ; oppression, injustice, avarice, and 
tyranny, were rampant and unbridled, and nothing 
seemed too vast or high for his ambition, or too mean 
and debasing to glut his thirst of vengeance, and 
favour his schemes for personal power, aggrandize- 
ment, safety, or emolument. The feigned conspiracy 



14 



CONSPIRACY. 



I have adverted to, is generally looked upon as one of 
the darkest stains on his character, politically or mo- 
rally considered. In the year 1760, on the 3d of Sep- 
tember, the King, on passing at night a lonely place 
near his country palace in the neighbourhood of Be- 
lem, was attacked by a knot of wretches, and with 
difficulty escaped assassination. The cunning and 
reckless minister thought this a good opportunity for 
immolating on the shrine of his vengeance all those 
noble families who were secret objects of his detest- 
ation or jealousy, and whom, from various causes, 
he had not been able to destroy previously. He 
has been said by some authors to have owed his 
long tenure of office to the discovery of pretended 
conspiracies ; and he lost no time in assuring the 
King on this occasion, that he had detected and un- 
ravelled a hideous and far-spread treasonable plot, 
of which this regicidal attack was the fruit. He 
named several illustrious families, who, he declared, 
tired of obeying and submitting themselves to the 
paternal government of their sovereign, had deter- 
mined on freeing themselves from the royal yoke, 
by the death of their indulgent master. The 
feeble-minded monarch lent a willing ear to these 
atrocious insinuations. He was the more ready 
to put faith in these vile fabrications, as his nerves 
had been shaken, and his imagination excited, by 
the danger he had so narrowly escaped. Soon 
after, every distinguished family that was ob- 
noxious to the Marquis was condemned to see 
its chief members, both male and female, thrown 
into foul dungeons or banished, its name branded 
by undeserved infamy, and its possessions and 
treasures confiscated and seized. The minister, 
by the barbarous application of horrible tortures, 



CONSPIRACY. 



15 



endeavoured to drag from his high-born victims 
false confessions of their knowledge of, or par- 
ticipation in, the alleged, pretended conspiracy. 
When he could not succeed in his abominable de- 
signs, he fabricated outrageous statements, which 
he caused to be bruited about as the confessions 
of those unfortunate nobles, and which, hoping to 
impose on the people as he had imposed on the 
credulous king, he denominated evidence. Of 
course, the so-called conspirators were each and all 
condemned to death. No mercy was shown ; — 
the sentences were rigorously executed, and they 
perished on the quay of Belem on the 13th of 
January, 1761, in the midst of appalling torments. 
Their remains were consumed by fire or flung into 
the river, and their palaces and houses razed to their 
foundations. The most illustrious of the families 
who were the victims in this hideous and tragical 
farce (for such it was well known to be throughout 
the kingdom) were those of Aveiro and of Tavora. 
The first was destroyed ; the second was deprived 
of its titles for ever. This last family was said to 
have aroused the implacable enmity of the Marquis by 
one of its members presuming to decline a proffered 
marriage with his son. Some say that persons still 
exist in the city who have actually beheld the de- 
scendants of this once exalted house begging for a 
bit of bread in the public streets, and yet the inno- 
cence of these miserable victims of oppression and 
hatred, after a strict and lengthened inquiry, was 
authentically and authoritatively declared in a solemn 
manner subsequently to the fall of the hated and 
guilty minister. 

Pombal was, as might be expected, exceedingly 
jealous of the power and wealth of the Church. 



16 



voltaire's opinion. 



Together with the defamed nobles, three Jesuits 
(for he saw, through them he could strike a sharp 
blow at ecclesiastical supremacy and influence) 
were seized and accused; however, in the Portu- 
guese dominions, the Pope's nuncio alone had 
then the privilege of pronouncing judgment on the 
members of the priesthood. Pombal, resolutely 
bent on accomplishing his end, appealed to the 
Pope to dispense with this sacred right. An im- 
mediate answer was not returned to a demand 
considered presumptuous, probably, by the higher 
authorities of the Church ; and the Marquis formed 
the determination of dealing with the difficulty in 
his own unscrupulous way. He, straightforth, 
issued a decree condemning to perpetual exile 
all the Jesuits from the realm of Portugal, and 
confiscating the whole of their property for the 
benefit of the crown. Shortly afterwards he 
ordered the nuncio to quit Lisbon, and at the 
same time recalled the ambassador of Portugal 
from the Papal court. This was not sufficient 
to show his defiance of the spiritual authority 
and influence of Rome ; Father Malagrida, 
whom he had unsuccessfully endeavoured to im- 
plicate in a charge of high treason, he caused to 
be arraigned for heresy, condemned, and burnt 
publicly in an auto-da-fe. Voltaire even ridiculed 
this charge against the Jesuits of Portugal, so 
utterly unfounded was it, and so manifest were the 
motives which led to its fabrication ; — and this, 
notwithstanding the fellow-feeling he might be rea- 
sonably supposed to entertain for his co-conspirator 
against social order and religious authority, and the 
natural tendency to sympathise with him, in his un- 
worthy object. He evidently considered it, what in 



DEATH OF POMBAL. 



17 



the language of cliplomatical criticism has been pro- 
nounced even " worse than a crime — a blunder." 
"If," said he, " there was never a more sanguinary 
and atrocious falsehood, there never either was a 
clumsier nor a more ridiculous one!" It was at 
the death of King Joseph, over whose mind Po Tu- 
bal exercised such a lamentable sway, that he fell 
into profound disgrace, the object of almost uni- 
versal national execration and hatred. The Queen 
spared his life, but banished him from the capital. 
A number of captives, amounting to some hundreds, 
were released from the prisons. These were the 
poor remains of an army of prisoners, probably 
embracing many thousands. He had also exiled 
vast numbers to the East and Africa. In the 
year 1782 he expired at his country palace of 
Pombal, at the age of eighty-three.* His de- 
scendants are, I believe, as remarkable for their 
upright conduct and excellence as he was for his 
contempt of all laws human and divine. Atrocious 
as was his moral and political character, justice must 
be done to his talents for administration, and the 
perspicacity of his mind. Had his principles and 
actions kept pace with his intellectual endowments, 
he would have been one of the noblest statesmen, 
perhaps, that had ever conducted the affairs of an 
administration in Europe, or ruled the destinies of 
a Christian nation. As it was, he left a name 
behind him which is covered with opprobrium 
and shame, despite his fine administrative talents, 
and some acts of reform which deserved contem- 
poraneous approbation and the gratitude of pos- 
terity. He, however, fell into a common misap- 

* His misepulchred remains are, I believe, still to be 
seen in the monastery of Busaco. 

C 



18 



LISBON. 



prehension, — the error of conceiving that violent 
and sudden changes are the necessary concomi- 
tants of a liberal and progressive course of policy ; 
sage moderation and gradual modifications and 
ameliorations he disdained. 

I will not say anything of the modern history 
of this city and its environs, — it is too thoroughly 
well known : and such a task would be but a work 
of supererogation. Before I conclude this slight 
account, however, I will mention that the Portu- 
guese claim as visitants to their country in olden 
times (besides the illustrious heroes of antiquity 
already enumerated), Osiris the Egyptian ; the 
Theban Hercules ; Atlas ; Bacchus the son of Se- 
mele ; Cacus; and Nebuchadnezzar! — (Nebucha- 
donozer) ; at least, so it is asserted in their chroni- 
cles, — this last, not succeeding in his attempt to 
subdue Lusitania, abandoned its shores, leaving 
behind him many Israelites ; and hence, say the 
Portuguese, arose the original settlement of the 
Hebrews in this country. They allege that their 
land was first peopled by Tubal, founder of the 
city of Setubal. The name of Lusitania (given to 
the region of country between the Guadiana and 
the Douro), according to them, was originally be- 
stowed by Lucius, — or in honour of him, — who 
reigned 1500 years b.c. Portuguese historians, if 
not in all instances veracious, display a considerable 
ingenuity in their derivation of the names of pe- 
culiar localities and tracts of country. 



LISBON CONTINUED. 



19 



CHAPTER II. 

The metropolis of Portugal boasts of having given 
birth to many distinguished sons. 

Luis de Camoens (or De Camoes) was born at 
Lisbon in 1517. He was the descendant of a 
noble family that originally came from Spain, His 
father perished by shipwreck. When old enough, 
his mother, though her means were scanty, con- 
trived to send him to the university. In course 
of time, his talents caused him to be favourably 
noticed at court; but, subsequently, some rather 
injudicious satires and some amatory indiscretions 
occasioned his banishment from the capital. While 
living sequestered at Santarem, he began his far- 
famed "Lusiad;" but wearying of a state of com- 
parative inactivity, he took part in an armament 
that Dom John III. had fitted out, in order 
to succour Ceuta ; and in an engagement with 
the Moors he had the misfortune to lose an eye. 
He laboured at the continuation of his fine work 
while in the camp ; and as he himself tells us in 
his inspired strains, — 

" One hand the pen, while one the sword employed." 

The gallantry he exhibited on several occasions in 
the field at last won him back that proverbially 
capricious and uncertain possession — court favour ; 
but intrigue once more, with its vile machinations, 



20 



CAMOENS. 



opposed his advancement, and materially affected 
his position and prospects. At length, in 1553, 
irritated at the continued injustice displayed towards 
him, he took his departure from Lisbon, addressing 
it in the touching language of the epitaph of Scipio 
Africanus, — " Ingrata patria, non possidebis ossa 
mea ! " He went to India, where, also, he soon 
afterwards again lost, by his satirical philippics, the 
favour his undoubted talents there gained for him. 
He was banished to China, and at a later period was 
appointed to a commissariat in Macao. He then 
and there prosecuted peacefully those literary labours 
which were destined to be so highly appreciated by 
posterity. He left this place, and sailed for Goa, 
after having managed to possess himself, by care 
and economy, of a moderate fortune; but Mischance 
and Disaster dogged the steps of the poor poet: the 
vessel foundered, and the ill-fated bard saved no- 
thing but his great poem — yet fortunate, indeed, 
in preserving that. Like Caesar of old, he swam 
with his left hand, while his right held above the 
greedy waves the precious production of his ge- 
nius, and he reached in safety the banks of the 
Mahon. Subsequently, at Goa, he succeeded in 
conciliating the esteem and friendship of Don 
Constantine da Braganza, who was the Viceroy ; 
and during his administration, Camoens, perhaps, 
enjoyed some of the most tranquil and pleasurable 
days of his existence. But a new Viceroy suc- 
ceeded Don Constantine, and again did the evil 
star of Camoens prevail — he was pursued by ma- 
levolent spites and jealousies, denounced and 
imprisoned ; and when he was able he took leave 
of the East, carrying with him the only wealth he 
possessed — his noble poems. His " Lusiad" was 



THE FATE OF CAMOENS. 



21 



published in Lisbon in 1572, and dedicated to 
King Sebastian, who gave the bard a pension of 
4000 reals ; but he was soon deserted by his 
changeful fortune, and not long after, he had to 
rely upon the casual bounty of the charitable. A 
devoted black servant, who had faithfully attended 
him abroad, collected alms for him, and on these 
he lived. Misery and the bitter sense of the 
world's injustice shortened his eventful life, which 
terminated in 1574. Thus perished a distin- 
guished warrior, and a true poet, one of the many 
examples of the ingratitude of mankind and their 
blindness to contemporary merit. Camoens was 
to the last a warm-hearted patriot. He wrote to 
a friend, " Em fim acabarei a vida e verao todos que 
fui affeicoado a minha patria." 

Many other celebrated individuals have first 
seen the light in Lisbon. Among those distin- 
guished for their disinterested and ardent zeal for 
religion, and for lives that offered a pious model to 
all who existed in their country at the same time, 
were, Anthony, surnamed of Padua, Alvaro de 
Cordova, Bartholomew de Martyribus, Pedro 
Negles, Thadeu, styled sometimes the Apostle of 
the Canary Islands, Don Andre d'Almada, Fr. 
Francisco Foreiro, and Fr. Joao de St. Thomas, some 
of whom have given the world learned works on 
moral and scholastic theology; and Alex, de Gus- 
man, Manoel Bernardes, and Manoel Guilherme, 
reverend fathers who are renowned for a profound 
knowledge in mystic and ascetic theology ; and 
among eloquent orators, both at the tribune and 
in the pulpit, may be mentioned as particularly 
distinguished, P. Antonio Vieira, and Fr. Timo- 
theo de Ceabra ; among lyrical poets may be 



22 



PORTUGUESE AUTHORS. 



cited Francisco de Mello, Antonio Perreira, Dom 
Estavao Rodriguez de Castro, Antonio Barboso 
Bacelar, Manoel de San Jose, &c. 

Some of the first Portuguese historians were 
born in this city, — namely, Diego de Conto, An- 
tonio P. Yeigas, P. Balthasar Telles, Fr. Bernardino 
da Silva, and, latterly, the Visconde da Santarem. 
Lisbon and its vicinity may also boast of having 
given birth to two illustrious musicians, D. John 
the Fifth and D. Pedro the Fourth, whose har- 
monious and scientific compositions have been much 
admired by competent authorities; the "Hynmo da 
Charta " of the latter, is, I believe, universally ad- 
mitted to be a really fine and spirited piece of music. 
Pope John the Twentieth or Twenty-first (according 
as the anti-pope John the Eighteenth is or is not 
reckoned among the Roman Pontiffs) was born in 
this capital, and was the second pope Portugal pro- 
duced. Among more modern celebrities, we must 
inscribe the names of Almeida Garrett and of An- 
tonio de Castilho : the first is of Hibernian ex- 
traction : he is a poet, and also, I believe, is distin- 
guished in oratory; he is said, too, to be a very high 
authority in histrionic criticism, and to be altogether 
both erudite and accomplished. The latter, An- 
tonio Feliciano de Castilho, is almost, if not entirely, 
blind ; he has never been enabled to learn to read, 
and yet he has acquired a just fame by his brilliant 
productions and intellectual achievements and at- 
tainments. He wrote a work entitled the " Letters 
of Echo and Narcissus;" a poem called "A Noute 
do Castello " (the Night of the Castle), and other 
compositions. The first of these had an astonishing 
sale for Portugal ; it went through four editions in 
about as many years. A romantic incident is con- 



ROMANTIC INCIDENT. 



23 



nected with this work, which I will briefly relate 
here. For the purposes of education, a young lady 
had been placed under the care of the Benedictine 
nuns at Variao, four leagues from Oporto. She 
remained in the retirement of the convent even 
after her education was completed, being passion- 
ately devoted to study. Here she perused works 
of the classics, ancient and modern ; and the effu- 
sions of Castilho happened to be among the number 
of books she read. She was so delighted with the 
" Letters of Echo and Narcissus/' that she indited 
an epistle anonymously to the author at Coimbra, 
laconically couched in these words: — "If you en- 
countered an Echo, would you prove a Narcissus ?" 
The reply of Castilho but deepened the senti- 
ment the perusal of his charming production had 
awakened. The fair Echo corresponded uninter- 
ruptedly with the poetic Narcissus, while the latter 
remained in profound ignorance of the real name of 
the recluse of the Benedictine convent, which was 
a tolerably long one, being " Donna Maria Izabel 
da Buenna Coimbra Portugal." At length he 
found his happiness hung so entirely upon the con- 
tinuation of this correspondence, and that his affec- 
tion for the anonymous one was so deep and ardent, 
that he determined to pop the question, declaring 
his earnest attachment, and entreating his beloved 
correspondent to say " Yes." In her character of 
Echo, what could she do otherwise ? The last 
syllable was duly repeated, and the enamoured 
poet besought an interview, entreating to know if 
he might at once set forth on his happy pilgrimage 
to the feet of his beloved, and when and where. 
Possibly Echo still maintained her fictitious cha- 
racter, and answered " where :" and it was surely 



24 



" ECHO AND NARCISSUS." 



quite enough for the delighted son of the Muses : 
doubtless he lost not a moment in specifying time 
and place, or in persuading the shadowy nymph to 
" echo" all his prayers with equal fidelity. They were 
quickly united, and while hoping she ever responded 
exactly to all his sentiments and affectionate ex- 
pressions, we trust she did not insist always, like 
her viewless namesake, in having the last word : we 
may conclude not, as their union was reckoned a fe- 
licitous one. Perhaps she copied the example of the 
Beloved of Narcissus in one desirable respect, and 
became that rare piece of excellence — a woman that 
never speaks but when spoken to ! Their happy 
marriage was of brief duration ; poor Echo died 
three years afterwards, and Castilho embalmed her 
sweet memory in a graceful and plaintive poem, 
worthy of its pathetic subject. The blind poet af- 
terwards espoused a lady of the name of Vidal, 
who is said, like Milton's daughters, to act as se- 
cretary to the sight-bereaved bard.* Poets (who can 
see) and poetry ought to flourish in this fair city, so 
lovely and charming is its situation, — few capitals in 
Europe can approach it, in the picturesqueness of its 
natural position ; and the white city itself, extending 
in imposing proportions before the spectator's beauty- 
bewildered eye, is exceedingly noble and striking 
in appearance. It boasts a stately crowd of palaces, 
churches, houses, and ancient monasteries, which vie 
with each other in princely splendour. Then there 
is the superb aqueduct over the Alcantara Valley ; 
the animated hosts of stirring windmills on the 
neighbouring hills, and the far-famed lines of 

* Besides Iris other acquirements, Castilho is said to be 
thoroughly acquainted with French and other modem lan- 
guages. 



BEAUTY OF LISBON. 



25 



Torres Vedras in the background, forming together 
a magical assemblage of interesting objects. The 
visitor to Lisbon should see it from the opposite 
side of the river. The river itself, however, is the 
chief feature of this brilliant scene ; crowded with 
shipping, sparkling in the beaming sun, or silvery 
moon, it is ever beautiful and attractive. The ap- 
proach to Lisbon by the Tagus is wonderfully charm- 
ing, and it unfolds its charms, too, part by part upon 
your gaze, so that few of the exquisite details can 
escape you ; and while it seems as if there was no 
end to the tide of loveliness that keeps pouring into 
the mind through the eye, gratified Expectancy, still 
on the stretch, calls in her willing sister Imagination 
to her aid, and the result altogether is assuredly 
enchantment itself. 

Imagine the newly- arrived voyager gliding along 
the river, while the warm rays of a glowing sunset are 
softly beautifying every object, — not a gorgeous sun- 
set, (like some I have seen in the tropics,) that draws 
off the fascinated attention entirely to itself, but merely 
a rich suffusion of blushing hues that adorn every- 
thing, and display the whole lovely and lively pano- 
rama to the most surpassing advantage. First, you 
behold the rock of Lisbon — the blue hills of Cintra 
presenting a noble appearance in the background 
of the landscape ; then the entrance of the Tagus, 
which is highly picturesque ; while orange and olive 
groves adorn the coast ; and numerous villas, or 
quintas, and hamlets and straggling villages of 
peasants' huts, diversify the scene ; dismantled forts, 
too, are seen on the banks. On the right side arise 
the Arrabida mountains, reaching along the far-off 
horizon to the main, and to Cape Espichel. Then 
you have the fort of Belem, with its antique towers, 



26 



LISBON. 



so intimately associated with the names of Vasco 
de Gama and Emmanuel the Great, and, in more 
modern times, the gloomy prison of the Duke of 
Aveiro (the last of his name) and the Countess of 
Tavora. Then comes the Cardinal's palace, or a 
building that once was called so, turreted and of 
imposing dimensions. After this appears the stately 
and loftily-situated, but unfinished, palace of the 
Ajuda, hinting of days of greater royal opulence, 
or of more reckless royal extravagance; and the 
fair heights and hamlet of Almada, — all are 
seen to succeed one another speedily ; and soon 
enchanting Lisbon spreads its whole splendid pa- 
norama before us, built, like Rome of old, on a 
swelling and imperial-looking amphitheatre of seven 
hills, entirely covering the valleys that intervene, with 
its profusion of convents, palatial houses, churches, 
towers, and terraced gardens, and public build- 
ings, rising one over the other, in shining tiers, and 
in striking pomp of architectural display. It is cer- 
tainly a superb sight — a most impressive object, be- 
held from the dark-blue Tagus, which here and there 
is reflecting richly the crimson tints of the slowly- 
fading sunset. In some respects Lisbon is far inferior 
to Naples, but in others is, perhaps, superior. 

The famous river on which this city is built, is 
said to be the noblest body of water in the old 
European continent ; it washes the foundations 
throughout the entire length of the capital ; 
towards the east it expands into an ample bay, 
properly named " Cova da Piadade," and impro- 
perly nick -named by nick- name-loving English 
Jack, "Jackass Bay;" — most likely from the 
crowds of that much-abused race which are to be 
seen ready saddled and bridled at the extreme 



LISBON. 



27 



point of the said bay, in order to convey tra- 
vellers and tourists to the country. The city is 
said to be about eight English miles in length 
from the fort of Belem to its farthest eastern 
extremity. Quintas and mansions, of all sorts 
and sizes, succeed each other with their mono- 
tonously, but brilliantly and beautifully white, ex- 
teriors, to the river's bend, leaving the inexperi- 
enced stranger in doubt as to where the shining, 
stately city terminates exactly. In breadth this 
fine town is particularly irregular ; it rarely exceeds 
a mile and a half; and in some places is so incon- 
siderable, as barely to stretch beyond a square or 
a couple of streets. Barriers guard the principal 
thoroughfares (the city is not surrounded, as in 
former times, with walls) ; and, apparently, Lisbon 
is intended to be regarded as fortified by a line of 
defences that were hurriedly thrown up to obstruct 
the forces of Doin Miguel in 1833, in case they 
should take it into their heads to attempt to return. 
One peculiar feature of this capital is that green 
fields (not churchyards, O effluvia-empoisoned Lon- 
doner !), cultivated and flourishing, are to be seen 
in the heart of the city. It has, however, no parks, 
properly so called. These verdant, wide-stretching 
fields and spacious gardens, attached to many of 
the town mansions of the opulent, contribute to 
give an appearance of vaster size to the city than its 
population would seem to warrant ; for it certainly 
appears disproportionately extensive for so compara- 
tively inconsiderable a number of inhabitants. 

Lisbon is no longer so unsavoury a strong- 
hold of dirt and squalor as it must have been 
formerly, to judge by the unanimously recorded 
verdict of its numerous visitors ; but there is ample 



28 



LISBON. 



room for improvement still. There is a municipal 
regulation which forbids that anything should be 
thrown from the window into the streets till after 
nightfall ; but then the curfew of Cleanliness is rung, 
and she must retire incontinently. After ten o'clock 
let any inexperienced wayfarer beware; the authori- 
ties, indeed, command that the proper warning shall 
be given three times, like reading the Riot Act, and 
bidding unheeding stragglers disperse. Woe to 
the wretch who disregards the summons ! Besides 
this, the municipal regulations are not always scru- 
pulously obeyed, and not only by night but by day 
you had better thread the streets of Lisbon with a 
cautious step and an occasionally upward-looking 
eye. Turn not a deaf ear to the voice of the 
charmer, when she does condescend to utter forth 
the shrill " Agoa vai," from a four-pair window. 
Kitchen refuse is carried away in carts, the con- 
ductor of which rings a tinkling bell to give notice 
of his approach. Macadamising and draining have 
improved many of the more important thoroughfares 
(some, however, find fault with the former system 
here, saying the streets are too dusty and dry for 
it) ; and the municipal chambers have certainly 
made a fair beginning towards improving the con- 
dition of the metropolis as regards decency and 
cleanliness. 

Our drawing-room in the Braganza Hotel was a 
charming apartment, spacious and lofty, with several 
large windows that " gave," as the French say (the 
Spaniards sometimes use "fall" in this sense), on 
the broad blue Tagus, and with a wide balcony 
reaching the entire length of the extensive room. 
It was really delightful ; but the sleeping apartment 
in one particular exceeded it : it had three very 



LISBON. 



29 



large windows, one commanding a superb view of 
the river, while the other two (also showing the 
river) were on the side towards the glistening, tow- 
ering city, which looked magnificent from that point 
of view. We had not been very long established 
at the Braganza (which I was told — I know not 
how truly — is a royal possession, and let by the 
Queen to the present proprietor, the stable still 
being retained by the crown, and densely inha- 
bited by royal horses and mules), when one day 
a sudden stir seemed to run through the whole 
house, like a wind through a forest in full fo- 
liage ; there were those indescribable symptoms 
of something extraordinary happening which are 
sure to excite female curiosity, — doors banging, 
voices whispering, dresses rustling, steps sounding 
hastily along the passages, windows rapidly flung 
open ! What on earth could it be, — fire or earth- 
quake? Lisbon has known the latter — so had we 
at Malta once, and it is not easily forgotten ; but 
we neither heard nor felt the earthquake — neither 
saw nor smelt fire or smoke. At last we succeeded 
in getting a rational answer from one of the flying, 
rushing troop. " Fire or earthquake, indeed ! no ; 
it is the King." And the King it was, who had 
come to pay a visit to a Spanish dignitary who 
was staying at our hotel, which dignitary had 
been declared by some of the gossips who had 
collected to catch a sight of the regal countenance, 
to be Spanish ambassador to China. However that 
might be, there was no doubt but that the King 
with an aide-de-camp or two, and accompanied 
by two of the youthful princes, had come to visit 
the Castilian gentleman aforesaid. 

We caught the infection of curiosity and interest, 



30 



LISBON. 



the fever of which spread so rapidly through the house, 
and all the more so did I, as I heard the party were 
mounted on beautiful horses, for which I have 
always a weakness. We took up our positions at 
one of my spacious windows, which overlooked, 
in one part, some building- ground belonging to 
the Braganza property, which the King and his 
sons and suite had gone to inspect. We saw the 
illustrious party at a distance, and they shortly 
afterwards returned, and we had a close and ex- 
cellent view of them. The King and princes, acci- 
dentally looking up at the window, saw us ; on per- 
ceiving that we were observed (a little discomfited 
we were to be thus caught peeping at the royal 
party as at a raree-show) we curtsied properly to his 
Majesty, who, taking off his hat, made us a pro- 
found and graceful bow, accompanying the saluta- 
tion with a particularly pleasing smile, and the young 
princes immediately followed his example. The 
King appeared to be very handsome and very pale, 
though truth obliges me to confess, that great part 
of his face was shrouded in the inextricable mazes 
of an immense beard, trimmed, or untrimmed 
rather, in the American fashion ; the line of face 
appeared classically fine and regular, and of statu- 
esque beauty, and I detected a resemblance to his 
Majesty's cousin, Prince Albert. The King is fair 
and extremely tall, with graceful and slender figure, 
and is very commanding-looking, besides having 
a most agreeable and attractive countenance. I 
hear that he has a singular voice in speaking. The 
heir-apparent to the throne was somewhat like his 
father, tall for his age, and slender; he appeared 
to have the same graceful manners, and had that 
indefinable high-bred look and air which reminds 



LISBON. 



31 



one of an Arab horse of the very purest blood and 
pedigree. The younger prince was not so striking 
in appearance, nor did he exhibit in the same 
degree the peculiarity I have last alluded to ; he 
was far shorter and stouter, and the expression that 
most characterised his youthful countenance, as far 
as I could judge from this brief single view of 
him, was a not unnatural, merry, schoolboy love of 
mischief and mirth, that contrasted greatly, how- 
ever, with his brother's grave repose of feature and 
intellectual — rather melancholy — cast of counte- 
nance. The horses we saw not, after all ; the King 
and princes entered the court-yard (on which our 
windows looked not) and galloped off at once on 
their return. 

The names of these young gentlemen and the 
rest of the royal family are not remarkable for 
brevity. A specimen may amuse the reader ; the 
elder prince's style and name runs thus: — The 
Most Serene Lord Dom Peter of Alcantara Maria 
Fernando Miguel Rafael Gabriel Gonzaga Xavier 
Joao Antonio Leopoldo Victor Francisco d'Assis 
Julio Amalio de Saxe Coburg Gotha, de Bragan9a 
e Bourbon, the Hereditary Prince. This young 
prince was born in September 1837, and was, 
consequently, about fourteen when we saw him. 
Another of the royal youths, most likely the one 
who also on that day accompanied the king-consort, 
is called The Most Serene Lord Dom John Mary 
Fernando Pedro d' Alcantara Miguel Rafael Ga- 
briel Gregorio Leopoldo Carlos Antonio Francisco 
d'Assis Borja Gonzaga Felix de Braganc^a e 
Bourbon, Saxe Coburg Gotha, Infante Duke of 
Beja. He is about eleven years old. The Queen 
was first married to Augustus Charles, Duke of 



32 



LISBON. 



Leuchtenberg, who died not many months after his 
august nuptials. The following year Donna Maria 
espoused her second husband, the present King, 
Dom Ferdinand Augustus Francis Anthony, Duke 
of Saxe Coburg Gotha. The Queen is of immense 

size and weight. V met her Majesty the other 

day, who was taking an airing in a rather small 
carriage, which seemed too light and too tight by 
far; in short, disproportionately diminutive and of 
almost perilous unsubstantiability. The people re- 
spectfully greeted her Majesty. I have heard se- 
veral Portuguese lately saying, the Duke of Sal- 
danha tyrannises shamefully over the Queen, and 
that he rules in everything ; and those whom I 
have heard mentioning the subject seemed to wish 
Donna Maria da Gloria had more power and the 
Duke of Saldanha less. I hear the Queen has quite 
lately issued a decree, which I suppose the severe 
minister, not caring much perhaps for appearances, 
has permitted to pass, — no beards are to be allowed 
in the army or at court ; the King was the first to 
fall beneath the shears of Fate and Figaro — (this 
must have been soon after we saw him) — and since 
this clearing has been effected, and the stately forest 
of hair has been swept away, and the sun allowed 
to shine on the (chief) face of the land, his handsome 
countenance has, doubtless, been much more appre- 
ciated and admired. The royal residence at Lisbon 
is, as is well known, the Palace of the Necessidacles ; 
perhaps the little jeu d 'esprit that appeared some 
time since in one of the Lisbon journals is not so 
currently known. It must be premised that Costa 
Cabral was then Prime Minister, and that he lived 
in the Travessa dos Ladroes, or Thieves' Lane, and 
that the chief cemetery of the metropolis is cle- 



THE DUCHESS OF BRAGANZA. 



33 



nominated the " Alto dos Prazeres," or the Height 
of Joys. "What possible good," asked the writer, 
" can be expected in a country where the sovereign 
resides in the Palace of Necessities, the minister has 
fixed his abode in a Lane of Thieves, and where, 
alas, the Height of Joys belongs exclusively to the 
Dead?" He might have added, what I think it 
was a Prench writer originally said, and "Where 
the one-half of the population is looking out for 
the advent of the Messiah" (Jews), " and the 
other half waiting for the return of King Se- 
bastian." The Empress, generally called the 
Duchess of Braganza, who was in England with 
her stepdaughter the Queen, and who is grand- 
daughter of the poor Empress Josephine (she is the 
widow of the late Emperor of the Brazils, Dom 
Pedro), resides in Lisbon ; but not much friendly 
intercourse is said to be carried on between the 
Duchess and her royal stepdaughter.* 

I have already mentioned the palace of the 
Ajuda: this, if completed on the original plan, 
would probably be one of the most enormous archi- 
tectural piles in Europe. Of this vast fabric, it is 
said, not a third is yet built ; it has, however, been 

* The poor ex-Empress lias lately had to deplore the death 
of her only child, a charming young princess. I believe the im- 
perial mourner lost her husband, .Dom Pedro, to whom she was 
most deeply attached, after only three years of wedded life. Her 
near relative, Prince Augustus, the Queen of Portugal's first 
husband, died after a very sudden and brief illness, having 
only been married to his august consort a few months. She 
lost a beloved brother lately, and now the loss of her only 
and adored child has left her alone on earth. She seems 
universally respected and beloved. The late Princess Amelia 
(half-sister to Donna Maria) was reputed to be very accom- 
plished and amiable. 

D 



34 



AJUDA PALACE. 



inhabited by the royal family, during the reign of 
Dom John VI. A temporary palace, constructed in a 
hurried manner, of wood, stood for a little while on 
the site of this imposing edifice; which slight build- 
ing was thus speedily run up to serve as a shelter for 
the houseless royal family after the famous earth- 
quake that desolated Lisbon, — it subsequently fell a 
prey to fire. Donna Maria's grandfather laid the 
first stone of this palace : the southern fagade, which 
was intended to be the chief one, displays two orders 
of architecture, the Composite and Tuscan; the east- 
ern side, which is nearly finished, has a ponderous 
vestibule, flanked by no less than three porticoes, 
upheld by columns, in which appear allegorical 
statues, the work of Portuguese sculptors. There 
are two wings on this side, which are loftier than 
the other parts of the building ; these are enriched 
by balustrades, and severally decorated by twelve 
trophies. 

Part of the interior is said to be handsomely 
finished (I did not enter the building) ; and some 
good frescoes are, I believe, painted on the walls of 
several of the apartments. The prospect from the 
highest stories of the palace must be exceedingly 
fine and extensive. The German Prince Lichnowsky 
pronounced a severe opinion upon the edifice : I 
believe this prince was the one who was so bar- 
barously murdered during the revolutionary fury in 
Germany, an accomplished, eloquent, high-minded, 
and noble-spirited youth, who had travelled much, 
and had penetrated into different parts of Spain — 
dangerous enough at that time — in the disguise of 
a guerilla; speaking the language so admirably, 
and keeping up the character so cleverly, that he 



PRINCE LICHNOWSKY. 



35 



was taken for a Spaniard by Spaniards themselves, 
and not recognised by an Englishman who had 
met him and been well acquainted with him in 
the gay circles of Paris. Poor young gallant 
Lichnowsky ! I remember a touching story being 
told after his death. It was said a lady, to whom 
he was deeply attached, had made a vow she would 
never rest till she had discovered, or caused to 
be discovered, the perpetrators of this diabolical 
murder. She went, robed in the deepest mourning, 
from town to town, from land to land, wherever 
she thought there was the slightest hope of ac- 
complishing her purpose, and devoted her whole 
time and energies to this solemn duty, and arduous 
undertaking : whether her indefatigable exertions 
have ever been crowned with success, I know not. 
The following are the remarks (translated in a 
little English work) of Prince Lichnowsky on the 
Ajuda Palace, in his book entitled "Recollections 
of 1842:" — "What possible interest can I take 
in this enormous and cold mass of stone, abandoned 
to blank loneliness, without a past and without a 
present? Unfinished, modern ruins, which offer 
nothing and recall nothing to recollection ; the 
vile taste and style of the last century, the ugly 
statues, the chill, dull marble ; — all this cannot 
please me, merely because eighty millions of cruza- 
does were spent on the work, or because it would 
be a great work were it completed properly." 

There is much truth in this ; and the same criti- 
cism might be applied to some other buildings that 
travellers take the trouble to go and see, that strike 
the eye, but say nothing to the mind, — devoid of the 
interest arising from historical recollections, and 



36 



AJTJDA PALACE. 



lacking the attraction of associations. The hum- 
blest fragment of a ruin consecrated by an en- 
nobling remembrance — an inspiring legend, even — 
should be more worthy of the traveller's tributary 
visit, and leave more precious traces in his 
memory. 



LISBON CONTINUED. 



37 



CHAPTER IIL 

Various nations had their representatives under 
the roof of the Hotel de Braganza. Occasionally 
we encountered in the passages, or saw promenading 
about on the platform before the house, a Chinese, 
of most Tartarean aspect. He was servant, I believe, 
to the Spanish grandee I have before mentioned ; 
and report said, an excellent one. There was a 
Spanish waiter and a German waiter, besides a 
Portuguese one, and, I believe, a Prench cook. A 
Brazilian gentleman had taken apartments in the 
hotel for five years, as the German waiter informed 
us ; and Americans occasionally took up their 
quarters there. One day our dinner was not quite 
as punctual as it might have been ; and on inquiring 
why we had been kept waiting, it appeared our 
German functionary had been at the bull-fight. 
" Very fine," he said ; " and negro man rides the 
bull all one as any horse, saddle and all — quite one, 
and no difference. And no accidents happen in dese 
Portuguese bull-fights : only to-day one negro man 
got his leg broken, and was taken to de hospital 
— dat's all." I made inquiries afterwards, and 
found these poor black men, from time to time, 
hire themselves out to the proprietors of the bull- 
circus, and take a prominent part in the enter- 
tainments, particularly in enlivening a dull or 
pusillanimous animal. To the honour of the Por- 
tuguese be it said, no horrid spectacles of tor- 



88 A SPANISH COMPANY OP BULL- FIGHTERS . 

tured horses are seen on the arenas of their amphi- 
theatres : the bull's horns are tipped with small 
balls, and danger to man and beast is, of course, 
thereby most materially lessened. But it would be 
well if those poor Brazilian negroes were no longer 
allowed to risk their limbs for the diversion and 
gratification of the unthinking populace ; although, 
perhaps, they would think it a hardship to be pre- 
vented making a little money — (and but little, 
for they "go werry cheap") — at the risk of a few 
contusions and lacerations. A Spanish company, 
one of the best in Spain, had lately arrived in 
Lisbon, and had asked permission of the authorities 
to exhibit the real, genuine, abominably cruel, 
Spanish bull-fight to the Portuguese, benighted, — 
as they contemptuously considered, — and kept in 
a state of pitiable ignorance of the real and racy 
delights of the true tauromachia. In short, this 
philanthropic company, benevolently compassion- 
ating the forlorn condition, and uncivilised, barbarous 
state, tauromachially speaking, of the ignoramuses 
at Lisbon, had actually come to enlighten and in- 
struct them ; bidding farewell, for a time, to the 
banks of their silvery Guadalquiver, to the stately 
amphitheatre of lordly Seville, the arena of Puerto 
de St. Maria, and the lashing Toros of Madrid ; and 
they came, with all their appointments and accom- 
paniments of muletas, enganos, devisas, and bande- 
rillas, besides capas and fireworks — and "perros" 
too, perhaps — in a spirit of the purest charity to 
their neighbours. Can it be believed ? ungrateful 
Portugal refused the mighty benefit sought to 
be bestowed upon her ! — Sunk in extraordinary 
apathy, she declined the offer; or, misguided by 
some inordinate prejudice, she could not be induced 



LISBON BULL-FIGHT. 



39 



to see the advantage of adding to the excitement of 
the representations that enlivened her " Praga dos 
Touros" by having poor, miserable horses done to 
death before the eyes of the spectators, amidst the 
most horrible and agonising torments : in short, 
the authorities positively forbade the Spanish com- 
pany to perform in Lisbon, unless they would con- 
sent to perform in the usual Portuguese manner, 
and with the horns of the bulls tipped. The Spanish 
bull-fighters returned an indignant "no" to this 
insulting proposition ; and so the matter stood at 
that time : the Castilians were prohibited from 
appearing before the Lisbonian public, and that 
" gentle public" were still condemned to remain in 
the dark as to the boasted superiority and much 
be-lauded merits of the Spanish " Corridas." 

The Praga dos Touros, at Lisbon, is situated in 
the Campo de Santa Anna; it is constructed of 
wood, and was completed in the time of Dom 
Michael. In size it may challenge a comparison 
with the circus at Cadiz ; it is furnished with about 
five hundred boxes, and is capable of containing 
some ten thousand spectators. It has not any pre- 
tension to splendour or beauty, and is allowed to 
remain in a rather dismal condition of dilapidation. 
It is inappropriately decorated along the loftiest tier 
of benches with rows of obelisks, urns, and trophies, 
with other ornaments, fashioned of wood, and des- 
titute of merit. However, the real ornaments of 
all such places are the people ; and it cannot fail 
to have an imposing effect when it is well lined with 
animated human features, and lit up by twenty 
thousand eager and sparkling eyes. On every other 
Sunday the proprietors indulge the public with a 
representation ; and the art of puffing is not despised 



40 



PUFFING. 



in the Lusitanian metropolis. In flowery language 
do the announcements set forth the promised de- 
lights of the approaching combat : — "In the superbly 
constructed and elegantly -finished circus of the 
famous and well-known Campo de St. Anna, a ter- 
rible, fearfully-exciting, and delectable conflict will 
without fail take place, of at least thirteen most 
savage and stupendous bulls, to which, with the 
highest consideration, the honourable inhabitants 
of this celebrated capital are invited. Ardently 
desirous to answer, justly, the expectation of the 
illustrious and not-to-be-surpassed nation of Por- 
tugal, — constantly, in its high-mindedness and mag- 
nanimity, so liberal in patronising these famous 
spectacles, — the proprietors feel an immense satis- 
faction in announcing that they have gone to the 
greatest expense, and that, by the dint of inde- 
fatigable endeavours, they have assembled the 
above-mentioned transcendent monsters, which 
were the property of the most affluent proprietor 
of Riba Tejo, who boasts among his countless herds 
the most awful and grand of existing bulls. This 
gentleman has at length been persuaded to delight 
the public — so discriminating — of Lisbon, and has 
agreed to send these animals to this far-famed circus, 
where they will actually assist in the remarkable 
and much-to-be-in-future-renowned representations 
that will positively take place this very evening/' 
But this is not all : a highly-spiced panegyric follows 
on the intrepidity of the bull-fighters, their unpar- 
alleled activity, agility, and presence of mind ; and 
then comes a poetical rhapsody of eight or more 
lyric stanzas, praising the courage and desperate 
ferocity of the animals about to appear, and de- 
scribing the terrific power of their horns and the 



PORTUGUESE BULL-FIGHT. 



41 



imminent perils of the forthcoming combat. The 
announcement is at length brought to a brilliant 
close by a vivid description of the pyrotechnic ex- 
hibitions that are to crown the evening's festivities. 
As in the sister country, these combats always 
begin by a splendid display on horseback ; but the 
pompous military evolutions which, I believe, are 
exhibited frequently in Spain, are discontinued in 
Lisbon. If the Queen honours the spectacle with 
her presence, one of her majesty's equerries appears 
as chief rider, or " cavalheiro," and then excellent 
and well- trained steeds, selected from the royal 
stables, always make their appearance. The 
equerry, mounted thus on a noble courser, per- 
forms the principal steps and proper evolutions 
of the ancient Castilian horsemanship, gracefully 
saluting the court and the spectators, which saluta- 
tions are termed in Portuguese " cortezias do caval- 
heiro;" after which enters the bull, bounding fiercely 
into the arena, to be received by the gallant horseman 
who is awaiting his approach ; but then the flag- 
bearers commence playing their part, and the most 
courageous and experienced of these instantaneously 
advance to attract him, with their gay capes and 
flags, and to irritate him with their goads. Occa- 
sionally they exhibit remarkable audacity and skill ; 
but this is more, perhaps, the exception than the rule 
in Portugal. The people are happily growing too 
civilised to care as much as formerly for these savage 
diversions ; and finished bull-fighters are therefore, 
for want of fostering encouragement, becoming 
scarce articles. So much the better; for, at the 
best, it is an amusement little calculated to minister 
to the gratification of an enlightened people, or im- 
prove their tastes. When the " touro" is considered 



42 



" HOMENS DE FORCADO." 



deficient in courage, or does little to divert the im- 
patient assemblage, or if the poor beast is wearied 
by his previous exertions, the negroes, or gallegoes, 
are put into requisition, and they are expected to 
enact the role the "perros" do in the adjoining part 
of the Peninsula when a bull is "blando" (or soft, 
tame). In the Lisbon bull-fights, the gallegoes in- 
variably appear wearing hats of a round shape and 
quilted hides, and are generally seen bearing a species 
of fork with two prongs • from this they are denomi- 
nated "men of the fork" {liomens de forcado). They 
are usually stationed under the tribune where the 
Queen is sitting, and are formed in file there ; so 
that if the bull, in the course of his erratic career, 
should venture to invade the royal neighbourhood 
too boldly, he is threatened by the line of forks, 
and, if he disregard the warning, they are quickly 
inserted in his flesh. Thus, poor fellow ! he really 
almost presents the spectacle of those tempting 
fowls and chickens which were supposed to run 
about ready-cooked, with knives and forks stuck in 
them. Should the Portuguese, like the Spaniards, 
roast the unhappy beef with hissing-hot fireworks, 
the parallel would be more complete. Not far from 
these gallegoes is placed a kind of aide-de-camp, 
mounted, and accoutred carefully in the antique 
Spanish fashion, with the capa and hat covered 
with shadowing plumes. This worthy's office is to 
act a live electric telegraph, and to transmit, with 
all possible celerity and fidelity, to every part of 
the praca, the word of command emanating from 
the authorities. This is highly necessary ; other- 
wise a dangerous and perplexing confusion might 
ensue in the midst of the tumult and excitement 
consequent on all such lively exhibitions. When 



TAKING THE BULL BY THE HOOF. 



43 



the proper order is given, the " homens de forcado" 
(fork-men) cast their weapons aside, and spring 
npon the common enemy. He that possesses the 
largest store of bravery and activity takes the post 
of honour and danger, exactly in front of the infu- 
riated bull, and watching his opportunity — when, 
with head bent down and eyes for the moment shut, 
the animal is about to wreak his fury on him — he 
springs lightly between his horns ; there he obsti- 
nately fixes himself, permitting the enraged bull to 
throw him about with great violence. His com- 
panions then advance and fling themselves on the 
animal, fastening themselves to him with extraor- 
dinary tenacity, like so many two-legged leeches ; 
they grasp him firmly, and with the most desperate 
energy, by the horns, legs, and tail, or spring upon 
him, defying his maddened efforts to shake them 
off. He is frequently seen with a dozen of them 
clinging to him, tearing round the arena, presenting 
a most strange-looking, confused mass of arms, legs, 
heads, and bodies, writhing and twisting about : at 
length the angry and bewildered brute is forced to 
pause for breath. The Portuguese term this man- 
oeuvre " taking the bull by the hoof;" and generally 
this is the part of the spectacle most appreciated by 
the public, and particularly by the humbler orders ; 
and frequently daring its performance their cries 
of encouragement and of ardent approbation are 
louder far than the roaring of the bull himself, and 
almost deafening to unaccustomed ears. After this, 
a troop of quiet cows, furnished with tinkling bells, 
are driven in, and the tired and half-tamed bull trots 
calmly after them, leaving the scene of his rage and 
discomfiture with a lesser opinion of his own prowess 
and powers, perhaps, than when, bounding and bel- 



44 



THE PORTUGUESE " PERROS." 



lowing, lie had entered it in a fury. Like a warrior 
after a conflict, it is then submitted to chirurgical 
treatment ; its wounds are looked at and doctored, 
and it is sent back to its proprietors, or possibly 
kept for some other similar entertainment. I under- 
stand that the black men do not always appear in 
the circus ; and I am rejoiced to hear this. The 
poor fellows, when they do appear, are, as I before 
remarked, the "perros" of Portugal, as nearly as 
may be following the example set them by their 
canine prototypes in the sister country. They usually 
stick bright-coloured feathers upon their heads, such 
as the wild warrior kings of their native lands adorn 
themselves with ; and they often hide themselves 
under curious figures of horses, constructed for the 
nonce of stiff pasteboard (and denominated, in the 
language of the country, " Cavallinhos de pasta"). 
Disguised thus, and thus grotesquely attired, they 
make their appearance before the bull, who attacks 
them invariably, and throws them to the ground 
with violence, often grievously bruising and injuring 
them. The people too frequently, in the hurry of 
their eager enjoyment, forgetful of the sufferings of 
these poor volunteers, insist on their re-appearance 
after they have retired maimed and disabled, and 
accidents of a more serious nature, on such occa- 
sions, from their condition of comparative helpless- 
ness, not unfrequently occur : this should undoubt- 
edly be put a stop to. 

The finest square in Lisbon is unquestionably 
the Praca do Commercio, which the British tars have 
re-named Black-horse Square. Another denomina- 
tion of this spacious place is "Terreiro do Paco" — 
Parade of the Court : thus it rejoices in several 
aliases. The latter name was bestowed upon it in 



THE PRACA DO COMMERCIO. 



45 



consequence of its having been at one time the site 
of a royal residence, which was destroyed at the 
time of the great earthquake. On the southern side 
of this handsome square flows the Tagus : the re- 
maining sides display ranges of fine houses, raised 
in front over stone piazzas or arcades, and at the 
southern extremities terminated by a couple of 
salient wings, that overhang the blue stream. 
The Praca do Commercio is about 615 feet long, 
and 550 feet broad. On the northern side it is 
approached by three of the chief streets of the capital 
— Rua Augusta, Rua Aurea (Anglicised by English 
residents generally into Gold Street), and Rua Bella 
da Rainha : the last is usually called Rua da Prata. 
East and west are Rua do Arsenal and Rua Nova 
da Alfandega. The large equestrian statue here, in 
bronze, of the first Joseph, is a well-executed work, 
and is the sole one of the kind ever erected to 
any Portuguese monarch. (It is this that gives to 
the place the name of " Black -horse Square," 
adopted by the English sailors.) It is placed on a 
pedestal between two fine colossal groups; and there 
is also a noble basso-relievo, displaying much merit, 
and skilfully finished. The arms of Portugal were 
placed upon the front of the pedestal, from which 
was suspended the effigy of the famous Marquis 
de Pombal, who was the chief promoter of this 
work. He was actuated by the double motive of 
doing honour to his sovereign master, and to him- 
self. When he was deprived of his royal patron 
and his place, the portrait was contemptuously 
hurled from its proud position by men who had 
obsequiously courted the notice of the original but 
a few brief days before. Since then it has been 
restored to its former honours and place, and 



46 



EQUESTRIAN STATUE. 



beneath it is a rather long Latin inscription. A 
sculptor, named J oaquim Machado de Castro, made 
the model of this meritorious work; and in ap- 
preciating its excellence we should not forget the 
mean state of the arts in Portugal at the time, nor 
the many obstacles in the way of executing so 
considerable an undertaking, and bringing it to a 
successful termination. The Marquis de Pombal 
received the tidings of his effigy being promptly 
removed and cast aside, with philosophically cool 
imperturbability and indifference. " Indeed I" said 
he : "so much the better, for it really did not 
resemble me ! " The figures above the pedestal 
in this group are considered to rank among the 
best productions of their kind ; but perfection of 
detail is apt to be sacrificed in the foundry, and 
the last exquisite touches of the chisel seldom sur- 
vive the final process : but, bearing this in mind, 
few will be found to deny that Machado de Castro 
has displayed great ability and power. He also 
both designed and executed the various emblema- 
tical groups that adorn the sides of the pedestal. 

Bartholomew de Costa presided over the casting 
of this equestrian statue, and as he founded the 
whole in one piece, without any failure whatsoever, 
even in a single member, he also merits great praise. 
The process, I should think, was not understood then, 
as it is now. De Costa, besides casting the statue, 
conveyed it to its destination, and placed it on its 
elevated pedestal. The liquid metal contained the 
immense quantity of six hundred and fifty-six and 
a-half quintals of bronze (the quintal is equal to 
128 lbs. English). There remained, after the loss 
of metal was subtracted (that was sustained in the 
course of polishing), five hundred quintals of bronze. 



MACHADO DE CASTRO. 



47 



The armacao, or skeleton of iron in the centre, 
weighed one hundred quintals, making the whole 
weight of this equestrian statue six hundred quintals 
of iron and bronze, or 76,200 lbs. 

The sculptor and founder were both natives 
of Portugal : the former gained but little fame or 
distinction, to requite him for his labours and skill, 
but the latter was complimented and rewarded 
by having the rank and the pay of a brigadier in 
the service bestowed upon him. Machado, it is 
true, was knighted by the king at the time ; but 
he was subsequently allowed to perish in neglect 
and oblivion in a miserable attic. It is narrated 
that he once emerged from his wretched obscurity 
to petition a high official personage to have the 
mouldering floor of his squalid cell repaired, I 
know not with what success. Well ! perhaps, the 
high official personage's name is now obliterated 
from the memories of his countrymen, while, cer- 
tainly, poor Machado' s is honoured and cherished. 
Tardy justice ! how common in this world. Some 
years since, it is also related, a public subscrip- 
tion was successfully got up to save the unfortunate 
sculptor's surviving relatives from utter beggary 
and starvation. The statue we have been con- 
sidering was cast in October 1774. At its in- 
auguration remarkable splendour was displayed, 
and costly fetes given. The ceremony began on 
the 6th of June, the king's birthday, and was 
prolonged for more than a week. The first day 
was devoted entirely to the highly-impressive cere- 
monials of the grand inauguration, during which 
the nobility, the members of the orders of knight- 
hood, the courtiers and the various civil and mili- 
tary bodies, paid their obeisances successively to 



48 



FESTIVAL OF INAUGURATION. 



the image of the monarch. On the following day, 
the king and queen and their family visited the 
square in a grand state-procession : representations 
or emblems of the four quarters of the world, of the 
seas, of the sciences and arts, and of Portugal herself, 
were conveyed in this procession, on magnificently- 
decorated cars. After gazing on the splendid spec- 
tacle the Praca presented, the royal party withdrew 
to apartments expressly prepared in the Custom- 
house, where concerts and other entertainments were 
provided ; and afterwards a most princely banquet 
took place, the cost of which, together with the other 
accompaniments of this regal fete, amounted to no 
less a sum than 9167/. English. The remaining 
seven days beheld either continuations or repetitions 
of the majestic ceremonials of the first day of inau- 
guration, while processions, illuminations, pageants, 
spectacles of various kinds, and brilliant concerts 
trod rapidly on each other's heels, to the delight 
of thousands upon thousands who flowed fast in 
from all quarters to join the general joy and gaze 
on the pompous jubilee. Lisbon was the great 
object of attraction to all the neighbouring provinces 
and people at that merry time. 

The office of the Minister of the Interior, the 
Exchange, the Custom-house and its dependencies, 
and the Tribunal of Commerce, are to be seen on the 
east side of this fine square. The building at the 
southern extremity is occupied by the latter and the 
Exchange. The Custom-house, for its fitness to its 
purpose, its ornamental additions, its internal eco- 
nomy, and its great size and durability, can hardly, 
perhaps, be exceeded by any similar edifice in the 
world. A noble staircase of two flights leads to a 
splendid room 173 feet long by 69 feet broad, at 



" PILLORY PLACE." 



49 



the four corners of which are corridors leading to 
the different offices and the store-rooms, each and all 
corresponding in spaciousness with the chief apart- 
ment. Including the India-house, the whole forms 
a square. Trees are planted in the interior, where 
a graceful fountain plays, which is surrounded by 
benches for the accommodation of visitors. A 
curiosity in this square is a little brazen cannon, 
so placed under three lenses as to discharge itself 
punctually at nine, twelve, and three o'clock, by 
the action of the rays of the sun concentrated in 
the focus. 

The office of the Minister of Justice and of Ec- 
clesiastical Affairs, the Junta do Credito Publico, the 
Supreme Tribunal of Justice, and Municipal Chamber 
occupy the northern side of the Praca; the west con- 
tains the Treasury, the office of the Minister of Fo- 
reign Affairs, and that of the Minister of Finance, also 
the offices of the War and of the Marine Departments. 
If we walk through the Rua do Arsenal, the ex- 
tremity of which forms the north-west entrance to 
this square, we shall find ourselves in the Largo do 
Pelourinho (Pillory Place). An ornamented stone 
pillar here is seen, upbearing an armillary sphere ; 
formerly this column was crowned with spikes of 
iron, purposely to support the severed heads of 
malefactors after their execution. Similar significant 
pillars (or pelourinhos) are to be found in most Por- 
tuguese towns which boast judicial tribunals. Dom 
Pedro gave the order for the alteration — and very 
decided improvement — perceptible here. The Ar- 
senal is built on the south side of the square. The 
Lisbon bank is on the east side of the Largo do 
Pelourinho. The office of the sole omnibus com- 
pany here, is at the north-western corner of this 

E 



50 



" PILLORY PLACE." 



Pillory Place; and among its shareholders it has the 
honour to reckon the king consort, who lost no time 
after his arrival in the kingdom in offering a praise- 
worthy example to Donna Maria's subjects, with 
respect to engaging energetically in schemes of 
national progress and improvement. 

The lower classes here, I think, seem very civil 
and obliging. In walking, sometimes we have been 
about to cross a street, and have seen, perhaps, a 
long train of mules advancing, they having suddenly 
emerged from some side-street ; but the courteous 
conductor, rough-looking and coarsely-dressed as 
he was, would stop the whole of them, and motion 
us to pass first : the same thing occurred several 
times. The first time I did not quite understand 
this, and paused ; still the man waited ; and I 
found I was to proceed, which I accordingly did, 
with an " Agradeco a vm ce ," — " Fico-lhe muito 
obrigado," or something equivalent, to the caval- 
heiro-like peasant. In the shops, the people appear 
also very urbane, and inclined to be attentive, but 
very indolent. I went into a shop where the man, 
though courteously disposed, seemed to think it a 
great fatigue to look for a few quires of small paper, 
and change them for others, as they were not ex- 
actly what I asked for, he having misunderstood me 
probably. It was not wonderful we should have mis- 
understood each other, for I talked to him in most 
horrible Portuguese, and he responded to me in 
most horrible English ! It would have certainly 
been wiser had we each kept to our own language. 
At last he seemed quite overcome with the frightful 
fatigue of handling four or five quires of light thin 
paper, and languidly assured me one that he offered 
to me must be right, for it came from London. 



" NEVER SAY DIE." 



51 



Some of the streets seem much crowded, and have 
a tolerably gay appearance. One afternoon, as I 
was walking with my maid in one of the thorough- 
fares, we heard a great noise, and saw a large 
collection of people apparently engaged in some 
highly-animated discussion, — the plot thickened, 
the tumult deepened, — should we advance or 
retire ? We paused a moment. The shrill notes 
of a lively young pig were heard ; and it appeared 
the cause of the disturbance was a stripling of a 
porker, who had a slight objection to being cut off 
in the prime of his days, and obstinately refused 
to submit himself to the executioner's knife, de- 
fying the three fates and two pork-butchers, with 
a determined stubbornness of pighood worthy the 
illustrious example set by that celebrated curly- 
tail " who wouldn't go over the stile." Who can 
wonder? His future smiled before him, adorned 
with many a cabbage-stalk. No drops of gall 
poisoned the brim of the overflowing trough of 
life to him — (that trough which, supposing it did 
contain wormwood, he could not " dash to the 
dust" — as bards, enraged, do their "cups of woe" 
— it being already there). He wished not to grunt 
adieu to the tempting gutter or the reeking mire, 
where a thousand attractions called him to wallow 
in the footsteps of his ancestors. He would fain 
linger long at the banquet, where all the delicacies 
of the season were spread forth for him in the 
way of offal and dregs. He had been the pride 
of the litter — " the rose and expectancy of the 
fair" sty — "the glass of fashion and the mould 
of form" — the very pink of porkers : — was he so 
soon to lie in the hot grave of the smoking dish, 
and hotter gravy? He cast his small glances 



52 



A CONDEMNED PORKER. 



around, while, haply, pearly tears coursed down 
his snout : should not some of these Lisbonian 
citizens have a fellow-feeling for him ? (Piggy- 
wiggy distractedly recalled the cry of " Agoa vai," 
&c.) If they would but spare his life, he would 
wander forth a styless being, and shake the dust of 
their city from the sole of his pettitoes ; but, silly 
piggy ! they want those very pettitoes — they can- 
not consent to their dinner thus making itself scarce. 
Some, perhaps, pleaded for the four-legged innocent, 
but others opposed their humane expostulations. 
Indeed, one or two might have wished, in their 
tender solicitude, to carry him off bodily, as the 
Frenchman did one of the same genus — that in- 
genuous Frenchman who, on being reproached for 
the act, said, " I did only propose to him, £ Come 
with me, my pretty little fellow, for von day;' but 
he cry, ' A week ! a week !' — so I taked him for a 
week." Their perfect disinterestedness was some- 
what doubtful, and might have reminded one, per- 
haps, of Mr. Barham's amended quotation : 

" And ah ! 'twill prove 

" What" pork " we doat on, when 'tis" pig " we love." 

Piggy could hardly be said to be a bone of con- 
tention among them, so utterly plump was he ; but 
the dispute seemingly waxed loud and fierce. 

Lisbon pigs are not so pretty as Neapolitan 
ones, those roly-polies that are seen in the environs 
of sweet Parthenope, trundling about like so many 
little, round, black-satin pincushions on castors. 
Our sty-lish small fat friend, however, as we be- 
fore observed, was a decided sprig of farrow fashion 
and a model of lardish loveliness. 

How the affair of the juvenile grunter ended, 



A CONDEMNED PORKER. 



53 



I know not; perhaps poor curly-tail is still flourish- 
ing in pigdom — still gaily trotting through each 
" slough of despond" in this fair city — (that is a 
slough of delight to him) — as he so much aspired 
to do, in the pettitoe-steps of his great predecessors, 
like them doing the whole duty of pigs, — growing 
big, till, like theirs, his career and course shall 
wind up in honourable bacon (for our course), and 
the fame of his goodness shall truly be in the 
mouths of men; — all the glories of swinekind may 
now be lying spread before him, — the griskin — the 
flitch — the gammon, — ah! sad it were should he 
live through but half his days and never go the 

whole hog : or, perhaps, — perhaps, after having 

had that squeak for his life, he has already been 
converted into ham, or crackliug and delicate 
pork. 



54 



LISBON DOGS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

The dogs still muster in very considerable num- 
bers in the streets of Lisbon, though I believe some 
diminution of these hordes has taken place. They 
prove themselves occasionally very ill-mannered and 
disagreeable curs. My maid was alarmed by one 
the other day rushing out upon her, furiously snap- 
ping at her gown, and making such hostile demon- 
strations, that she was fearful he would tear her, or 
certainly it, to pieces. A benevolent tallow-chandler, 
or some person of that genus, hurried from his 
house to her rescue. The animal had discovered 
she was a stranger and a foreigner, and being 
illiberally brought up, or despising the doctrine 
of the brotherhood of nations and fraternity of 
races, had thus shown his currish prejudices by 
most ungraciously receiving the alien visitant to 
his street. Another day, when she and I were 
together, a dog, with a fearful barking, flew at 
us, and on being driven away by a man who 
took compassion on us, retired menacingly and 
growlingly enough. These dogs are as idle as 
their brethren of Constantinople, and more sulky 
and surly, I think. (I know not if, as is rumoured 
of the latter, they ever act the cannibal's part, and 
devour each other.) You may often see the carters, 
and even sometimes the omnibus -driver, stopping 



" LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG." 



55 



in order to have the living barrier removed. The 
postilion of the clumsy calesas is not unfrequently 
seen to dismount, — carefully to deposit the ani- 
mated stumbling-stone (which does not take the 
trouble to walk off, out of harm's way,) at the side 
of the street, and then full leisurely to clamber up 
on his gaunt mule or sorry horse again. These 
pauses are trying, indeed, to the patience of the 
inmates of the carriages, which do not travel much 
beyond a snail's hand-canter. We were told that, 
a little while ago, an uproar had been created at 
Lisbon regarding these dogs. It appears that 
King Ferdinand was riding along the streets one 
day, and that his horse tumbled over one of these 
canine plagues, and he naturally enough tumbled 
from his horse. It was thought to be a good oppor- 
tunity to get rid of these noisy nuisances. Orders 
were given accordingly by the king, through the 
authorities, that all masterless dogs found in the 
street should be destroyed ; and it was confidently 
anticipated that the numerical strength of this large 
undisciplined force might thus be most materially 
lessened ; but this command angered the biped 
portion of the community very seriously. The 
populace love these dogs, — and useful scavengers 
they unquestionably are. They are wont to caress 
and feed them, the mongrels reciprocate their attach- 
ment ; and the unpopular decree made more noise 
in Lisbon than the animals themselves. 

Lisbon was, indeed, in an uproar. The public said 
to his Majesty, "Love me, love my dog ! " — ("Quern 
ama a beltrao ama a seu cao") — and declared the 
decree should not be executed — nor the dogs. 
A revolution was threatened; the insurrectionists, 
aided by the whole force of curs, might have proved 



56 



POPULAR INDIGNATION. 



more formidable than Portuguese insurrectionists 
usually are. Things bore a menacing aspect. 
The army itself might be bitten by these dogs — 
I mean by this particular dog-mania, and it would 
not be safe to trust to it ; and even if they escaped 
this infection, man and horse (by the way, some 
of the latter might, perhaps, not inappropriately 
be denominated dog-horses) might prove no match 
for man and dog when driven to such desperation. 
Doubtless a less severe sentence was then proposed 
to be substituted for the first one ■ a modification of 
the originally-contemplated measures was probably 
submitted to the irate and agitated populace : the 
dogs should not be exterminated, only perhaps deci- 
mated, vigesimated, or, milder still, possibly the idea 
of one of the Sultans of Turkey, under similar cir- 
cumstances, might be adopted, and a project for the 
conveyance of the interesting quadrupeds to some 
spot hard by, where they could form a canine colony 
by themselves, might haply be conciliatingly laid 
before the agitators. This last offer even, — none 
— nothing, could have had the effect of appeasing 
the Lisbonians. What ! exile those excellent citi- 
zens, whose lives were devoted to the purifying 
of their city, and to carrying out the views of 
the municipal authorities! — banish their indefati- 
gable scavengers — their pet street-sweepers — their 
chosen reformers of all immundicities — their fa- 
vourite metropolitan police — (or the best part of 
it) : it was not to be thought of ! If the dogs were 
to go from Lisbon, Lisbon would go to the dogs 
assuredly. The clamour continued ; so did the 
barking. It is said every dog has his day ; but 
these dogs clubbed together, and resolved their 
joint days should be lengthened ; that they should 



STREET "SNAGS" AND "SAWYERS." 57 



not, at any rate, be prematurely shortened. Their 
defenders energetically continued to espouse their 
cause. At last the point was yielded : it was 
abundantly proved that if "a cat may look at a 
king," — a dog may tumble one into the mire — 
even into the prodigious mire of Lisbon itself. 
So the matter was ended, and the mongrels were 
ended not. Thus the court and the authorities gave 
in ; the order was withdrawn ; the canine plagues 
were unshot — the public unbereaved — the king's 
life unsecured — the horses unrescued from foes 
that will not let them keep in the way they should 
go — and the highway still well provided with those 
snarling stumbling-blocks, which give to charioteer- 
ing and equestrianism, possibly, a slight zest which 
a smoother path might lack, and which are to the 
streets of Lisbon, perhaps, especially by night, what 
the snags and sawyers are to the Mississippi. 

The royal consort, I suppose, made a proper 
apology to Donna Maria's four-footed subjects : 

" The king touch 'd his crown, 
The clog made a bow ; 
The king said, 'Your servant,' — 
The dog said, ' Bow wow ! ' " 

After this, in Lisbon, it must surely be taken as a 
compliment to be called a dog — to be treated like a 
cur must undoubtedly be, to be made much of, — 
and to say of one, "He is leading a dog's life," is of 
course a way of expressing he is living in lavender, 
honoured, respected, and beloved, and shielded 
from every caprice of fate and of fortune. 'Tis 
well it is no worse : had it come to open rebellion, 
as we previously hinted, disciplined horse and in- 
fantry might have proved nothing to undisciplined 
dog and foot. 



58 



PORTUGUESE COURTESIES. 



There is a great deal of courtesy and elaborate 
civility in the manners of the Portuguese. If a 
stranger appears in company, he is instantaneously 
saluted and greeted by every individual present. 
If they are seated, they all rise with one accord to 
pay their respects to him. The host generally ad- 
vances to the door to receive his visitor, and seems 
for the time converted into a mere master of the 
ceremonies : he, with great deference, ushers his 
guest into the apartment, remaining behind himself, 
and, with profuse bows, repeating, " A casa e sua : 
tenha a bondade d'entrar." (The house is yours ; 
be good enough to go in.) When the visitor takes 
his leave, this order is sometimes reversed, and the 
master of the house walks before his guest : however, 
the usual way is for the latter to go first. If there 
are several, or many apartments, the affair becomes 
peculiarly tedious, and requires an iron perseverance 
and a pliable spine. The host watchfully follows 
the guest, after the preliminary "Adeos," and at 
the door of the first room a halt takes place, and 
some profound salutations are interchanged. At 
the door of the next room the same low bows 
have to be repeated; and these respectful recog- 
nitions and reciprocations are assiduously renewed 
throughout the long suite of apartments, at the 
threshold of every chamber — nay, if there are cor- 
ridors to be threaded, at every turn of the passage, 
they must be recommenced : nor is there safety 
even in a flight — of stairs. Arrived at the ban- 
ister, which a foreigner is apt to hope must be the 
goal and the termination of his trials (while he 
feels ready to bound down the whole staircase at a 
spring, rejoicing in his deliverance), etiquette de- 
mands and requires a fresh series of salutations; 



FORMAL VISITS. 



59 



and at the first landing-place it is indispensable to 
return to the charge : indeed, no matter how many 
landing-places, at each fresh one you must bow and 
scrape. Having descended the staircase, you may 
yet have, perhaps, a vast entrance-hall to traverse. 
If so, about every other step it would be consi- 
dered pretty for you (especially if your visit is one of 
ceremony) to turn round and repeat the same pro- 
found inclinations, going through the hall in a sort 
of slow demi-waltz. Your partner, however, con- 
tinues at a respectful distance, considerably more 
than at arm's length ; still he so exactly copies your 
movements, you seem like two puppets pulled by 
the same string ; and he contrives the wriggling 
and wagging, so that each obeisance shall take 
place just where your last did. Of course, near, 
and at the door of the house, you must prepare 
for a perfect tornado of civilities : you, on your 
part, bareheaded, must bow away as if for dear 
life — unintermittingly — bow upon bow, scrape 
upon scrape. If you all but walk upon your head 
you will be right, and, perhaps, it would be as well 
to turn round four or five times in the street, and 
certainly at the corner of it, whether walking or 
driving, — in case your host should be nid-nid- 
nodding still at his departing visitant. 

On all these visits of formality the guest must 
thus precede the host, who takes care to follow the 
visitor leisurely, so as to give the latter time to 
get a little the start of him, — a little laio, in sport- 
ing phrase, — and the former thus easily reaches 
the door of the first room while his acquaintance 
is bobbing and bowing, ducking and dipping, at the 
sill of the second, and so on till the terminus — 
the hall-door — is happily reached. However, these 



60 



MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. 



elaborated courtesies are beginning to submit to 
change, and yield to the immutable law of muta- 
bility. 

At the reunion of long-severed friends or rela- 
tions, the cordial pleasure experienced is frequently 
exhibited by a hearty and honest hug, the one 
often actually lifting the other from the ground ; 
and this, perhaps, four or five times running. A 
stranger to Portuguese customs is a little discon- 
certed by these earnest demonstrations, if haply a 
native thinks to show hospitality and kindness by 
thus greeting him. Ladies meet each, other with 
equally ardent manifestations of delight, and kiss 
each other repeatedly. The same affectionate cere- 
mony takes place at parting, — minus the delight, 
we may presume. 

A well-bred Portuguese, like a Spaniard, in- 
diting an epistle from his own house, does not omit 
to date it " from this, your house !" — (" Desta sua 
casa.") A gentleman in Portugal never leaves a 
room in wdiich one or more ladies are sitting, with- 
out turning round upon reaching the door, to repeat 
his courteous salutations to the fair dames, notwith- 
standing that he has previously taken leave of them, 
and they graciously return a slight bend to his 
homage. A man omitting this would be considered 
first cousin to a bear. 

The Portuguese pay great regard to the dif- 
ferent distinctions of rank on addressing each other. 
Titles are nowhere, probably, more accurately de- 
termined. Every fidalgo must be addressed as 
" Vossa Ecccettencia " and this style belongs to all 
who are the holders of any place or office of rank 
under the administration. A similar mode of ad- 
dress is applied to the bishops. Others of the clergy 



ILLUSTRISSIMOS AND EXCELLENTISSIMOS. 61 

are entitled " Vossa Reverencia." Ladies, when 
they are spoken to by persons with whom they are 
not on intimate terms, are usually addressed as 
"Vossa Excellencia." Persons of respectability 
expect to be called " Vossa Senhoria." " Vossa 
Merce" is often used to an inferior. A master 
will use the " Tu " in speaking to his domestics • 
and this term is also employed as one of familiarity 
between equals of all classes and grades. 

All persons who have a right to the "Ex- 
eellencia" are, in epistolary correspondence, ad- 
dressed as " Illustrissimo e Excellentissimo Senhor," 
or " Illustrissima e Excellentissima Senhora," and all 
others by " Illustrissimo Senhor," or " Illustrissima 
Senkora." If you are writing an epistle to one of 
superior station, it is the etiquette to sign your 
name at the very bottom of the page, in all hu- 
mility and lowliness. Then in the direction comes, 
before the name, the never -to -be -omitted -or -for- 
gotten " Illustrissimo " or " Excellentissimo," or 
both of these titles, attended by three or four 
conspicuous " et ceteras " beneath ; and if the 
document is conveyed by a private hand, your own 
name ought to be inscribed at the bottom. Gene- 
rally, the superscription is written in lines that run 
at right angles with those of English addresses. 
A rather curious peculiarity among their other 
customs is that, if a Portuguese offers a lady his 
arm, he is expected always to present his left arm 
to the fan object of his attention, on account of that 
being commonly considered to be the nearest to the 
heart ; and it is looked upon here that this warm 
shrine of life and feeling should be brought into as 
close contact as possible with the gentle Senkora, 
for the brief space during which she is thus escorted 



62 



UNPOLISHED GALLEGO. 



and protected, and acquires, temporarily at least, a 
right to the devotion of its owner. 

Civility and ceremony are not in Portugal alone 
confined to the more educated classes : all care- 
fully observe the recognised convenances of society. 
A rough Gallego even will ordinarily accost his 
comrade with much politeness, and will formally 
greet him, saying respectfully, " Salve o Deos," 
or " Deos lhe de bons dias," doffing low his 
" shocking bad" cap. This is succeeded by a 
minute inquiry as to the health of the " Senhora" 
Gallega and all the infant Gallegitos and Gallegitas ; 
and the proper compliments are ceremoniously re- 
peated when they take leave. 

The Gallegoes are not, however, always such 
models of politeness, as the gallant author of 
<£ Rough Leaves from a Journal kept in Spain and 
Portugal" tells us. He had a Gallego to attend 
to his horse, and this functionary one day omitting 
to stand hat in hand when his master appeared, 
seriously offended, not the master, but the Portu- 
guese idlers and children who happened to be 
present. The children called him hard names in 
their native tongue — very hard names ; but those 
brickbats of words made no impression on him. 
They made mocking signs to him ; and at length 
openly and peremptorily desired him to take off 
his hat. The Englishman rode hastily off, and 
left them to settle the matter in dispute amongst 
them. On his return, however, it was rather 
showery, and the discourteous or thoughtless Gal- 
lego still appeared hat on head. This was really 
too much for Portuguese politeness to endure : the 
lookers-on were horror-stricken ; their own hats 
seemed to lift themselves up without the aid of 



FILIAL RESPECT. 



63 



hands, for their hair quite stood on end. They 
came up in a body to the degenerate master who 
could put up with such an affront. They asked 
him how he could decani of retaining in his service 
one moment longer a man who could think 
of keeping his crown dry, and his cap on, in 
his presence. In vain did the indulgent master 
represent, first, that he was not so particular, and, 
secondly, that he could get no one else in those 
troubled times. These sticklers for the due ob- 
servance of etiquette, and self-elected judges of 
manners, would hear nothing. They quietly took 
it upon themselves to discharge the man, and they 
afterwards provided the traveller with a fresh do- 
mestic, warranted to know to half a minute the 
exact time his hat and his head must part com- 
pany, to fear not the pitiless pouring of the storm, 
and, in short, to act as if his head was chiefly given 
him to take his hat off from ; which latter they 
taught him duly, was an article more intended for 
the hand, and far more becoming to it. This 
extreme is certainly much better than the opposite 
one. 

The reverential deportment of children towards 
parents is generally considered striking in Portugal. 
Whatever station the family may occupy, the sons 
and daughters, no matter what their age may be, 
always salute their father and mother the first 
thing in the morning, by kissing their hand and 
begging for their blessings. At the conclusion of 
the afternoon's repast, and at night before re- 
tiring to rest, they repeat this touching testimony of 
love and filial respect : before strangers and visitors 
this custom is still observed, and even on occasions 
of a public kind. It is generally thought, however, 



64 



FRENCH IN LISBON. 



that a change in these respects is gradually 
creeping in. 

Here and there graceful remnants of ancient 
and characteristic manners are being by degrees 
abolished, though, perhaps, the more simple-minded 
and unsophisticated of the population still cherish 
them, and preserve them in their practice, as they 
have intertwined them amongst their dearest asso- 
ciations. We are told that, scarcely fifty years ago, 
it was an invariable custom, on quitting the shore 
in a passenger-boat, for the man at the helm to 
beseech all present to unite in a solemn prayer for 
the repose of the souls of the departed faithful ; 
and instantaneously every head was bare, and every 
lip muttered the humble supplication. The Portu- 
guese then never passed a church, or an emblem 
of his religion, without saluting it ; and when the 
Angelus bell was heard at morning, noon, and 
evening, every person joined in the brief, but im- 
pressive, memento of the awful mystery of the Re- 
demption (as still in parts of South America). 
Much bigotry, much superstition, is, doubtless, put 
an end to ; but it is possible that some good is 
swept away with the evil, and free-thinking and 
materialism may be making stealthy advances 
where fanaticism and intolerance have died away. 
Meaning but to "clear aw T ay the cobwebs, they 
have shaken the edifice itself," perhaps. It is a 
pity that people can seldom " drive the hens out of 
the garden without trampling down the beds," as 
the Germans say. Of one thing, I think, there can 
be no doubt, however ; in former times the monas- 
teries and convents were the abodes of sloth and 
indolence, and too often the haunts of vice and 
immorality. 



THE FRENCH AND THE MONKS. 



65 



When the French were in Lisbon, they seized 
the rubicund monks, whom they looked on as lazy 
hypocrites, gave them brooms instead of scourges, 
and turned them into street-sweepers; having 
transfixed the unfortunate dogs with the points of 
their bayonets. The Portuguese nunneries, I be- 
lieve, were inhabited by really devout women, 
whose lives were pure and sanctified; at least in 
most instances. 

To return a moment to those important per- 
sonages at Lisbon — the dogs. I see it is men- 
tioned by some writers that lately their numbers 
have been greatly diminished, and that a price has 
been set upon their heads ; but I think, after what 
I have heard respecting the royal adventure with 
these four-footed citizens, that there must be some 
mistake there. Other authorities tell us the legis- 
lature formerly troubled its august self with canine 
concerns, and that it was not regardless of the 
accommodation and well-being of the noisy quad- 
rupeds. There is an ancient law requiring par- 
ticular trades to provide vessels of water at their 
doors, for the use and benefit of these homeless 
wanderers. Canine madness is said to be nearly 
unknown at Lisbon, fortunately, or hydrophobia 
might cut off a large portion of the inhabitants 
of the fair city. Generally, if one ill-condi- 
tioned cur chooses to set up a surly bark at 
an unoffending wayfarer, vast quantities of others 
rush from all quarters to help in the attack (so 
that one fool makes many, it seems, in the brute 
as well as the human creation). They are, we are 
assured, utter poltroons in general. They do not, 
however, care much for a stick, but a stone alarms 
them, and quickly puts them to flight. The good 

F 



66 



HEADS TIED UP. 



citizens of Lisbon understand well how to use these 
last-mentioned missiles, which, from their earliest 
years, they are accustomed to throw. The four- 
footed freebooters well know this, and hurry off 
when they see a man stoop to pick up a stone to 
fling at them. These dogs behave worse to one 
another, perhaps, than to any one else. If a new 
one attempts to join their colony, he must make up 
his mind to go through a series of battles before he 
is admitted into their select company. They are 
exceedingly rigid preservers also. Should any dog 
be caught beyond the limits of his own province, he 
is very severely handled— or jawed, and is punished 
as a conscious trespasser. Cats are by no means 
wanting in Lisbon. Rats, too, are found in large 
numbers ; and occasionally bevies of cats, dogs, and 
rats may be seen all feasting away together in the 
most harmonious concord. A Coalition Ministry 
(with its rats) could hardly form a more peaceful 
Happy Family. It is said to be something peculiar in 
the atmosphere of Lisbon that prevents hydrophobia 
attacking the dogs, though they bask during the 
whole of the summer months in the hot sun that 
blazes over that fair city. I have been informed, 
indeed, that not a single instance has ever been 
recorded. Another peculiarity is supposed to be, 
that bruises or wounds on the head heal with 
extraordinary rapidity here, without medical assist- 
ance : while hurts and injuries in the leg are parti- 
cularly dangerous, and excessively difficult to cure. 
I do not know whether pains in the face are very 
prevalent in Lisbon, but it is a common thing to see 
persons with their faces tied up. However, my maid 
declares, positively, that she has discovered that 
the Portuguese, whenever they are ill in any way, 



delphina's vow. 



67 



directly tie up their heads. She says one of the 
servants in the hotel has gone about with her head 
and face thickly muffled up lately, because she has 
a sore throat, or something of that sort ; and that 
another hurt her hand or foot, and tied up her 
head instantly. I certainly think Delphina, the 
housemaid who waited on us (and who, by some 
of the English at the hotel, was rechristened 
" Dolphin "), did adopt this singular fashion when- 
ever she was ill. Poor Delphina ! she had had 
a bad fever some time ago, and she made a vow 
then to some saint, that if he would cure her, she 
would light a couple of candles every night and 
pray before his image ; and apparently she faithfully 
performed her vow : for occasionally, when the maid 
went to call her to bring some water and arrange 
the room, she would be found deeply engaged in 
her devotions before the two candles, (" rascally 
dips," — sixteen to the pound), accurately placed on 
each side of the twopenny picture of the saint. 

The procession of the Viaticum to the sick is 
very impressive ; it constantly takes place in the 
evening, or at night ; and then it seems particularly 
solemn. After sunset's red glow had given place 
to the succeeding shades of night, we were one 
evening sitting, as was our wont, either at our 
open windows or on our balcony, I forget which, 
when suddenly, as if by magic, we saw a beautiful 
impromptu illumination, shedding a lustre on every 
object. In the different houses that were visible 
from our apartments, innumerable lights were con- 
spicuously glittering. One mansion, of very consi- 
derable size and height, and handsome architecture, 
of which we had a good view, seemed almost in a 
sudden conflagration. There were a vast number 



68 



st. roch's church. 



of windows, and every one of these was, it seemed, 
instantaneously and simultaneously illuminated; 
and altogether the spectacle was a brilliant and 
striking one. The tinkling of a bell was heard, 
and we soon knew the meaning of this array of 
lights — the passage of the Host. 

Not very long ago a procession such as this 
passed by the St. Carlos Theatre during a perfor- 
mance; some of the assembled crowd in the 
building heard the bell, and caused the stage- 
business to be immediately suspended ; and the 
entire audience rising, turned round in the direc- 
tion of the sound, and remained standing or kneel- 
ing during the whole time that the sacred proces- 
sion was passing by. On the eves of the Feasts of 
St. John the Baptist, St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. 
Anthony, the custom of spontaneously lighting up 
the windows, having fireworks, and kindling bonfires 
in the squares and streets, is no longer so closely 
followed as in former times ; but still it is observed, 
though principally, perhaps, by the more youthful 
members of the community. At the doors of the 
churches may be often seen a scarlet hanging sus- 
pended : this is to announce that the Exposition, or 
" Forty-hours' prayer," is going on within the sacred 
building, where the Host is exposed for the homage 
and worship of the people upon an exalted throne, 
sparkling with the glittering lustre of a crowd of 
lights. The chief churches of the metropolis in turn 
take up this peculiar devotion, in such a manner 
that, before it comes to a termination in one, it is 
beginning in another, and thus perpetually and 
uninterruptedly it continues : indeed, it is called 
Laus perennis, or "perpetual praise." 

We paid a visit, while at Lisbon, to the church 



THE " MISERICORDIA." 



69 



of St. Roque, or Roch : it is connected with, and is 
attached to the Misericordia, which is a charitable 
institution, dating its foundation as far back as the 
time of Emmanuel the Great. It is stated that 
more than two thousand foundlings are annually 
received in this fine hospital (the Misericordia) : 
it affords a shelter and nourishment to the 
parentless child ; alleviates the misery of the poor ; 
extends the blessings of education to the young, 
who are deprived of favourable opportunities for 
acquiring instruction and developing their natural 
powers; it conveys consolation to the prisoner; 
administers assistance, spiritual and corporeal, to 
the suffering and dying; bestows decent burial 
on the neglected indigent ; and offers prayers, ac- 
cording to the practice of their Church, for the 
repose of the souls of those whom it has benefited 
during their transitory sojourn below. 

St. Joseph's Hospital is a dependency of this 
institution — (one of the apartments there, for the 
sick, is asserted to be the largest of the kind in 
the world). — An asylum for female orphans also 
forms a part of it, and a select number of these are 
furnished every year with marriage-portions, or 
placed as domestics in families of respectability. 
Advocates for penniless prisoners are also provided 
by this institution, and it gives alms monthly to 
sick people; and in addition to this, distributes 
among them medical aid gratuitously. It takes 
a deep interest, too, in the fate of condemned 
criminals, in petitioning for their forgiveness, or 
in preparing them for the great change. In old 
times this vast House of Mercy had the administra- 
tion of its important affairs conducted by a brother- 
hood, the half of whose members were of high aris- 



70 



st. roch's church. 



tocratical connexions, and the other half, men of a 
less exalted class : all rendered their services gratui- 
tously. This establishment was considerably inter- 
fered with by Dom Pedro, and the administration 
of its affairs was taken from the brotherhood who 
had superintended them, and entrusted to a com- 
mittee appointed by the Government. Great com- 
fort, neatness, and order are said to exist in this 
institution. 

The church of San Roque (with its adjoining 
building) was once in the hands of the Jesuits, given 
to them by Dom John III. St. Francis Borgia 
(the third chief of the Society) is supposed to have 
preached from a pulpit in this church, attired in a 
poor black robe or cloak, which he had carefully 
mended and patched up (for it is said it was 
probably done with his own saintly ringers) with 
white thread — showing questionable taste as a 
needleman : it is kept still among the reliques in 
the sacred edifice. 

Some years since, a considerable quantity of 
ancient reliques, inclosed in different costly reli- 
quaries and shrines, were found under some of the 
altars. 

The most interesting and beautiful part of this 
church is the celebrated and splendid chapel of St. 
John, to which we easily gained admissiom Dom 
John V. was the founder of this magnificent gem 
of architecture. We were told the monarch, on 
entering the church one day, remarked that the sa- 
cred recess dedicated to St. John the Baptist was far 
inferior to its sister chapels ; and on being informed 
that every other chapel here had its own especial 
brotherhood to superintend its ornamentation, and 
bestow suitable embellishments on it, while that 



st. John's chapel. 



71 



of St. John was without any, the sovereign declared 
that, as the chapel was dedicated to the saint of his 
own name, it should from that time be taken under 
his own peculiar protection. He had the dimen- 
sions of the place forwarded to Rome, with instruc- 
tions that a chapel should be constructed there of 
great magnificence ; and that, " regardless of ex- 
pense," the decorations should be made of all that 
was most costly and exquisite. Augustine Massuci, 
a celebrated painter, was entrusted with the designs 
of the three principal mosaics. It was erected in 
Rome, and placed in St. Peter's when finished. 
After its completion, Pope Benedict XIV. was the 
first who officiated upon its beautiful altar. After 
this it was carefully taken to pieces, and put into 
strong cases and forwarded to Lisbon, accompanied 
by the Italian artificers who were to superintend or 
assist in its erection. Dom John, when the chapel 
arrived, was stretched on his bed of death, and the 
work was not properly finished till after the acces- 
sion of his successor, Dom Joseph I. 

The floor of this chef-d'oeuvre of art is in mosaic 
of marble : its design is that of a thickly-flowered 
carpet, with a globe in the middle, and enriched 
with inlayings of porphyry. The side-bases of the 
chapel are of fine black marble, with white occa- 
sionally interspersed. The front rails are of verd 
antique, while the altar steps are porphyry and 
bronze. The suppedaneum is formed of granite ; the 
doorposts and the lintels are of verd antique, and 
the frieze that surrounds the chapel of giallo antique, 
(or jald antique,) bordered with bronze carefully 
wrought. Eight columns of lapis lazuli adorn the 
chapel, and their bases are beautifully composed of 
amethysts and of alabaster, their capitals being of 



72 



MOSAICS. 



bronze. The wall on the outside of the principal 
arch is entirely of coral; the arch itself of pure 
alabaster : the royal arms of Portugal, supported by 
two angels, are to be seen on the keystone. The 
roof of this sumptuous chapel is decorated with 
seraphim and with borderings of jasper, and it is 
inlaid with jald antique and verd antique. The 
mouldings of the pictures are all of fine porphyry, 
and are edged with wrought bronze. The altar 
is formed of jasper, and it has a frontal of lapis 
lazuli, profusely skirted round with splendid ame- 
thysts. Between the top of the altar and the 
principal mosaic, too, the space is richly inlaid 
with sculptured coral, with superb lapis lazuli and 
refulgent amethyst 

The most considerable of the beautiful mosaics 
is over the altar, and represents the baptism of 
our Saviour in the river Jordan. The feet are 
extraordinarily well and delicately delineated, and 
one almost seems to behold them in living reality, 
through the interposed, transparent water. An- 
other mosaic portrays the Annunciation, and the 
third the Descent of the Holy Spirit on the Virgin 
Mary and the Apostles. These mosaics are indeed 
admirably executed ; and we were shown a ladder 
kept for the especial accommodation of sceptical 
and stubborn visitors, — for some had incredulously 
disputed the possibility of their being anything 
but fine paintings produced by the ordinary con- 
junction of oil and canvass, till they had hoisted 
themselves on high, and actually touched with their 
distrustful hands the cold, hard marble, whose exist- 
ence and reality they had so obstinately doubted : 
seeing, with them, was not believing — touching 
alone removed their hesitation. Three handsome 



AN ENGLISH KNIGHT. 73 

lamps of solid silver further embellished this 
costly place, decorated with admirably -wrought 
figures. In addition to these lamps are a couple 
of magnificently-finished and very massive candle- 
sticks, formed of silver. These valuable candle- 
sticks are ten feet high, and are said to have cost 
seventy-five thousand crowns a-piece. A splendid 
frontal of lapis lazuli is placed before the altar on 
days of high festival ; this rich frontal is supported 
by two angels of solid silver ; in its centre is 
represented St. John's Vision of the Lamb, and 
all the Elders offering their adoration : this fine 
group is wholly formed of molten silver. This, 
together with the angel-supporters and whole frontal, 
is supposed to have cost about sixty thousand crowns. 
Proportionately magnificent is the altar-plate, dis- 
played and used on the festival of St. John. 

The French carried off all this vast wealth to 
the mint in 1808 ; but with the exception of four 
reliquaries, which had been transmogrified into 
coin, all was restored to this place. At one time 
it was rumoured that it was in contemplation to 
carry off the whole chapel bodily to France ; and, 
if report speak the truth, artists were actually 
consulted as to the feasibility of putting the plan 
into execution. But while they were deliberating 
as to the possibility of packing off the chapel, they 
found they were themselves condemned to vacate 
their domiciles as expeditiously as possible. 

An Englishman, named Sir Francis Trejean, has 
a tomb in this church ; it is placed under a pulpit, 
near the fine chapel I have been describing. This 
northern knight's story is a singular one, and is 
related in a Latin account, printed a little time 



74 



UNCOURTLY COURTIER. 



subsequently to the death of its distinguished sub- 
ject. This memoir states that the knight, having 
made his appearance at the court of the " fair virgin 
throned in the West," attracted the mighty Eliza- 
beth's attention ; and, in fact, that the august dame 
lost her heart to him. It then proceeds to state 
that, far from sharing the admiration that Raleigh 
and others felt, or professed to feel, for " glorious 
Queen Bess," so learned in love and Latin, this 
un gallant knight failed to reciprocate the tender 
attachment entertained for him. The " lion's 
port " did not seem bewitching to him, nor the 
carroty locks, nor the trooper-like oaths, nor the 
fortification of farthingale, nor the acre of sto- 
macher, nor the mile of ruff, no ! — nor the ear-em- 
broidered petticoat, — neither did the eagle eye charm 
his peculiar fancy ; and he allowed the enamoured 
Elizabeth to perceive this. The Queen, says the 
memoir, was highly indignant at the effrontery, 
indifference, and unsusceptibility of the cavalier, 
and her affection was soon converted into implac- 
able hatred and fierce resentment. She resolved 
to be revenged. He had turned her head — should 
she twist his neck, en revanche ? No ! she would 
throw him into prison. (His dissolution would not 
melt his heart in her favour, she perhaps reflected.) 
Happily for her, as she thought, the adherence of 
this too frank Francis to the creed of his ancestors 
supplied her with a plausible excuse for persecuting 
him, of which she eagerly availed herself ; and so at 
last she led him captive, and he wore her chains — 
on his wrists and ankles : however, this ungallant 
gentleman, after an incarceration of eight-and- twenty 
long, dreary years, at length succeeded in making 



BILLET-DOUX. 



75 



his escape from " durance vile/' and from the " Lion- 
port and betook himself to a quiet haven in Por- 
tugal, where he died in the odour of sanctity — in 
short, with a high and saintly reputation. 

Sad "scandal" all this " against" Queen Eliza- 
beth : but supposing it for a moment to be true, can 
one not imagine the kind of expostulatory billet-doux 
the haughty dame might have indited ? Would it 
not have been couched something in this strain ? 

" Gadzooks, Sir Knight ! — So you will not fall 
in love with me ? You had better, without more 
ado ; or, by my halidom, I'll unknight you. Not 
fall in love with me ! 'Slife ! I'll break you on the 
wheel, and make you ! 

" Yours, as you demean yourself (and dote on 
me), " Elizabeth." 

On Sir Francis's tomb there is an inscription in 
Portuguese, informing us, among other things, that 
he was a " Fidalgo Ingrez mui illustre," and that 
he had suffered much from Queen Elizabeth for 
the Catholic faith in the country of heretic Eng- 
land (" Pella defesa da fe Catholica em Inglaterra 
em perseguicao da Painha Isabel") ; that he died 
in Lisbon, and, after having been buried seventeen 
years, his corpse was disinterred, and was found at 
its exhumation quite perfect and without any sign 
of corruption. It was placed in its present position 
by the English Roman Catholics residing in the 
city ; the epitaph, which commences thus, " Aqui 
esta em pe o corpo de Dom Francisco Trejean," 
&c. &c, was done into excellent Irish by a native 
of the Emerald Isle, who thus began the translation 
of the inscription : " Here lies, standing up, the body 
of Sir Francis Trejean." 



76 



ST. VINCENT. 



The cathedral, or " Old See," has by some been 
imagined erroneously to have originally been a Moor- 
ish mezquita, or mosque, like the famous Cordova ca- 
thedral; but Padre Castro triumphantly refuted this 
mistaken supposition, and proved satisfactorily that 
the first Portuguese monarch, Dom Alphonso Hen- 
rique, built it from the very foundations. This 
building has thrice undergone serious damage, twice 
having been injured by earthquakes, and once by 
lightning. It presents, consequently, a dilapidated 
appearance — a very venerable one, however. The 
original building was in the mixed Arabian and 
Gothic styles of architecture, but it has been so 
repeatedly patched, repaired, and cobbled up, after 
all sorts of fashions and fancies, that it would be 
difficult to tell what order it belongs to now. There 
are some pillars, with gaudy gilded capitals, that 
brightly glare against the blank stare of white- 
washed walls. Surrounding the sanctuary is a 
corridor, flanked by a numerous array of chapels. 

The present sanctuary was erected by Dom 
Alphonso IV., and his body is buried in it, as well 
as that of his wife. The monument is a sin- 
gular and not uninteresting specimen. One of 
the chapels contains the grotto of the Nativity, 
which is the work of Machado de Castro. An 
Englishman, Bishop Gilbert, officiated here as first 
Bishop of Lisbon. 

The corpse of St. Vincent was deposited in this 
place when brought from the promontory, which 
was named after him. The famous ravens are gene- 
rally kept in a recess behind the church. The 
history of these buds, at least of some of their pro- 
genitors, and the cause of their being regarded with 
reverence here, is as follows : — The martyr St. Vin- 



FEATHERED PENSIONERS. 



77 



cent was one of those who suffered in the time of 
Dioclesian ; he perished amid horrible tortures, and 
after his death his remains were exposed outside the 
walls of Valentia, by command of Dacian the prefect. 
A raven, supposed to be provided for the purpose 
by an especial interposition of Providence, pro- 
tected the body of the lifeless saint, and guarded 
it from the beasts and birds of prey that sought 
to attack it : St. Augustine and other writers of 
the period attested this miraculous fact. When 
the Moors ruled Spain, the Christians belonging to 
the province of Valentia were cruelly persecuted by 
the king, Abderahman, and they fled from the tyran- 
nical Saracens to a promontory afar, in the kingdom 
of Algarve, bearing with them the honoured ashes 
of St. Vincent. It was after the battle of Ourique, 
and the expulsion of the Saracens from Lusitania 
which followed it, that Alphonso Henriquez had 
these remains (in the year 1139) conveyed to 
Lisbon by sea. The translation of these precious 
relics of the martyr in those superstitious times 
was regarded as an event of deep interest, and it 
was thought the remains would bring a blessing 
upon the city, where they were deposited at length. 
St. Vincent was, in consequence, selected as the 
patron of Lisbon. We are informed by an ancient 
legend that two ravens, miraculously inspired, fol- 
lowed the vessel on its voyage ; and to comme- 
morate this circumstance, and the arrival of the 
saint's body, the city adopted for its arms two 
ravens and a ship, regardless of the former being 
usually considered ominous and inauspicious. Be- 
sides this, it was ordained that a brace of these 
birds should always be kept in or near the cathe- 
dral. 



78 



PRISONS. 



Other stories are told of this supernatural affair, 
and as these seem quite as probable as the former 
one, I will repeat them. When the vessel, with its 
saintly freight, was on its way to Lisbon, it was the 
sport of unfavourable weather and contrary winds. 
For a great length of time it was driven about ; its 
crew grew thin and thinner by degrees, individually 
and collectively, till at last none living remained 
on board. Then the pair of ravens made their 
appearance, and either took upon themselves the 
character of two able-bodied seamen, or, as some 
authorities assert, without more ado, in their own 
proper persons, quietly, and very <c handsomely, took 
the unfortunate vessel in tow," gratis, and, in due 
process of time, brought it safely to Lisbon. 

Another account states that, after some crows 
had followed the body to its last home and 
resting-place (one should almost be inclined to 
suspect their affectionate attentions), these birds, 
who had been spectators of the martyrdom, re- 
traced their flight, and the sagacious creatures 
having discovered the perpetrators of the atrocious 
act, tore out and feasted upon their impious eyes, 

— nothing loth — strenuous in the cause (or caws, 

— which does the narrator mean? — as true crows 
might be expected to be. However this is, lucky 
Ralph is accommodated with comfortable quarters 
at the back of the old cathedral, and is a per- 
petual pensioner of the Government, nati consumer e 
fruges. 

The chief prisons of Lisbon are the Limoeiro 
and the Aljube. The latter contains culprits who 
have been condemned to labour for different stated 
periods in public works. The former is a ram- 
bling yellow building, of considerable size, and it 



PRISONS. 



79 



can hold some thousands of criminals. It was 
once a Royal Palace. The public executioners reside 
in this prison. They are always reprieved criminals 
themselves, whose lives have been spared on the 
express condition that they should follow this 
dreadful employment. They exhibit professional 
ability by grasping firmly the rope when the con- 
demned wretch is being swung off the ladder, and 
then shortening the agonies of the miserable being 
by squatting upon his shoulders. 

The prison discipline is said to be bad, although 
the rules are harsh and severe. Lisbon thieves and 
pickpockets, like the unworthy confraternity of our 
own metropolis, have a system of signs and a lan- 
guage of their own (md perhaps a glossary for 
private circulation, for the use of young beginners) ; 
through these they have been known to keep up a 
correspondence with their friends without. Some- 
times, by offering a sufficient reward, applying 
promptly, and securing the good offices of the im- 
prisoned professors of the light-handed art, abstracted 
property has been recovered by the lawful possessors. 
The prisoners are not ^infrequently most violent and 
savage, and desperate conflicts occasionally take 
place among them. When these furious quarrels 
break out, the turnkeys are under the necessity of 
emptying from above, upon the bare heads of the 
belligerent parties, baskets of slaked lime ; for it 
would be perilous in the extreme for the attendants 
of the prison to go amongst them. On one occasion 
lately the doors of the prison were opened by force 
by a gang of villains from without, who surprised and 
overcame the guard.* Many of the felons then es- 

* The object was to free some prisoners confined for poli- 
tical offences, and the attempt was partially successful. 



80 



CHAFARIZ d'eL REI. 



caped into the circumjacent streets, and not a few 
were bayonetted by the soldiery while they were 
endeavouring to flee from the city. 

Among the churches here, is one called the 
Conceicao Velha, interesting from its having been 
a Jewish synagogue till the reign of Dom 
Emmanuel, who transformed it into a Catholic 
church. 

There is one fountain in Lisbon which is 
worthy of remark, from the vast quantity of water 
that it yields. Most of the Lisbon fountains are 
connected with the Grand Aqueduct, but this one 
is generally supposed to be dependent for its 
crystal supplies on an immense natural reservoir 
hidden in a hill, on which Stands the castle of St. 
George. The fountain is named Chafariz d'El 
Rei. The water is of a higher temperature than 
that of the aqueduct, and is reckoned beneficial in 
various complaints. Not far from the Chafariz 
d'El Rei there are many shambles or stalls, where 
pork is displayed in profusion, and also a cheese 
named " Alenitejo" cheese, which is concocted of 
sheep's milk. 



♦ 



PUBLIC GARDENS. 



81 



CHAPTER V. 

The botanical garden of Lisbon merits a visit. It 
is well supplied with plants of various kinds. In 
it are placed a pair of singular old stone figures, of 
heroic stamp and quaint workmanship ; some anti- 
quarians conceive them to be of Phoenician origin. 
They were discovered near Portalegre in the year 
1735. Not far from this garden is a very delicate 
little stone church, which is dedicated to St. Joseph, 
and is called " Memoria," as it w T as built in comme- 
moration of the escape of Joseph the First from 
attempted assassination. You might think, so fair 
is it, and so lonely is its situation, that it had dropt 
from the skies. Indeed it has been said of it, it 
looks as if angel hands had placed it there. 

The public walk (or Passeio Publico) is pretty ; 
a handsome iron railing runs round it. There are 
many trees here, affording an agreeable shelter from 
the broiling sun in summer. One part of the public 
pleasure-ground is adorned by numerous flower- 
plots : a regimental band usually adds the attraction 
of its enlivening strains to the other delights of the 
promenade, on Sundays and days of festivals. A 
jet-d'eau and basin shed a fresh coolness around in 
the heats of summer ; these are near the southern 
entrance. In the neighbourhood of this public 
walk is a charitable asylum (Asylo da Mendi- 
cidade), which very charitably supplies chairs for 

G 



82 



FEIRA DA LADRA. 



the use of visitors to the promenade ; however, a 
trifling gratuity is expected to be offered by the 
occupiers of these seats, and the proceeds are de- 
dicated, of course, to the mendicity establishment. 

The place named the Campo de Santa Anna is 
remarkable for being the spot where a singular 
fair is held. It generally takes place every Tuesday, 
and is attended by a very motley and mixed con- 
course of people. Those who love to study traits 
of nationality and characteristic peculiarities, should 
not fail to take a peep at this spectacle. It will repay 
them. 

This fair is known by the curious name of the 
Fair of the She-Thief (Feira da Ladra). A mystery 
hangs round the origin of this name, not a very 
complimentary one to the Lisbon dames and dam- 
sels engaged in it — it is a Portuguese Hag-fair. 
The difficulty in describing this would be to say 
what is not there. 

On all sides you see a heterogeneous assemblage 
of articles, animate and inanimate. If there is a 
chaos of sights, there is a Babel of sounds and a 
mizmaze of smells. The most antipodian articles 
are placed in juxtaposition, as if to meet at the 
same moment the most eccentric and inconsequent 
tastes. Birdcages and donkeys, gallipots and Sun- 
day gowns, gridirons and garters, cracked riddles and 
worn-out horses, mules and umbrellas, plaster-of- 
Paris Venuses and Jupiters and broken bottles, 
crockery-ware and cloaks, singing-birds and blun- 
derbusses, and feather-beds and ribbons, sauce- 
pans, tooth-picks, and milking-pails, ploughshares 
and pincushions, books and bedsteads, cart-wheels 
and artificial -flowers, farthing-candles and nuts, 
flower-pots and shaving-pots, toasting-forks, halters 



VARIETIES. 



83 



and cradles, wheelbarrows and old wigs, pictures, 
tongs, garden-rakes, pepper-castors, shoes, oranges, 
pins, sponges, portmanteaus, carving-knives, pill- 
boxes, seals, spurs, lace, cheese, pocket-handkerchiefs, 
wash-hand basins, horse-collars, soap, spectacles, 
castor-oil, ear-rings, and kettles. These may be 
taken approximative^ as the kinds and varieties of 
queer commodities displayed at the " Feira." 

The exhibitors of these promiscuous wares are 
not unworthy of notice themselves. If they fancy 
you are in your first green days of young touring, 
and are thoroughly inexperienced in the ways of 
the Feira da Ladra, they will, perhaps, ask you 
twenty times as much as the article you have 
selected is worth; but if they think you know 
something about it, they will only demand, mo- 
destly, eight or ten times its value. 

This motley bazaar is often quite a place of 
fashionable resort, and has been honoured by visits 
from royalty. It is, indeed, a spot where curiosities 
and comicalities are rife. 

Puzzled strangers may here be seen turning in 
bewildered consternation from mouse-traps to jack- 
asses, and from pictured saints to recalcitrant 
mules, and when bargaining and chaffering for a 
kitchen-poker, suddenly staring round in a state of 
distraction, on having broken -winded and spavined 
hacks pressed on their notice, and most likely on 
their " kibes" and their ribs into the bargain. Not 
so the old stager : he worms his way warily through 
these various groups and stalls, turns in a remark- 
ably collected manner from rags to roadsters, and 
from roadsters to rags again. He has a quarter of 
his eye on that clothes-horse, a half-quarter for the 
adjoining bit and bridle — not intended for said 



84 



A MEDLEY. 



clothes-horse, however — a twentieth part on that 
ramshackle brown umbrella, and another twentieth 
on that mangy door-mat or second-hand pair of 
boots; then he rapidly shoots a keen glance of anti- 
cipatory appropriativeness, or assumptive acquisi- 
tiveness, from them to a piece of rusty old iron 
railing, and from that to a jar of pickles or preserves ; 
then successively, but with lightning swiftness, he 
examines, with a shrewd, knowing, connoisseur-like 
look, a horsewhip, a clock, a roasting-spit, a 
thermometer, a pot of pomatum, a pair of com- 
passes, a threadbare court-suit, a whole set of 
dilapidated kitchen utensils, a waistcoat, a tooth- 
pick, a butter-dish, an opera-glass, a footstool, and 
a cage of canary-birds. 

Strangely unamalgamating things seem fami- 
liarly elbowing each other here. Involuntarily you 
are reminded of the words of the old song (if you 
ever heard it), — 

" Oho ! here's fun ! roasting-spits with scabbards on ! " &c. 

for all seems heaped pell-mell, and utterly antago- 
nistic articles are seen in close fellowship. 

Sometimes the confusion exceeds all descrip- 
tion — Chaos come again ; and so much the more 
chaotic, as the jumble of objects of Art is added to 
that of objects of Nature. There is certainly here a 
hotch-potch and medley of nondescript articles, no- 
where to be found in the original old Chaos — a staid 
and respectable locality in comparison. Any man not 
so thoroughly broken-in as the veteran habitue we 
have mentioned before, is in danger here of buying 
a donkey when he wants a canary-bird and a bird- 
cage to put him in. How bewildered looks that poor 
clodhopper, who, having bargained for a superan- 



ALIVE AND KICKING. 



85 



nuated umbrella, finds himself vainly trying to un- 
furl a huge uplifted French horn ! and the man who 
wanted the French horn at his elbow, how phrene- 
tically is he blowing into a decrepit pair of 
bellows ! But that is nothing at all to the poor 
purblind fiddler who is sticking a big cocked-hat 
under his chin, and scraping away at it diligently, 
having just purchased a new-old violin ; which, how- 
ever, being in a highly -ruinous condition, would 
not perhaps give forth much more music than the 
cocked-hat, — if so much, indeed. 

In the meantime the dumb animals, driven 
hither and thither by vagabond boys — who aid in 
showing off their curvetting and caracoling capa- 
bilities — do their "little possible" to add to the 
uproar and confusion. Get out of the way of that 
mule, you poor, dear, old, toddling, white-ker- 
chiefed dame. He looked half dead a minute ago, 
but, tormented by that noisy urchin, proves alive 
and kicking. He presents another appearance 
now truly, and exhibits himself to great advantage, 
with one heel in a currant-jelly pot, and another 
elevating high in air (and not ungracefully) the 
cracked lid of a soup-tureen, as if it were a tam- 
bourine, and he was an itinerant stage- dancer. 
And oh ! that child, half lost in a ruinous mass of 
overturned donkeys' legs and ears, and scattered 
kitchen -dressers, and shattered arm-chairs — will 
nobody pick up its particular arms and legs out of 
all that heap ? And the poor white-kerchiefed dame 
has lost her shoe — that mule has got it, doubtless, on 
another of his heels, and she's hopping away like an 
elderly sparrow afflicted with sciatica. And how will 
that wretched lame cripple get on in this confu- 
sion ? " Mind! mind ! or your crutches will be sent 



86 



HISSING. 



flying from under you by that small, unhappy pony, 
who has been 'aggrawated' into a shambling gallop." 
Another moment, and the pony was hobbling on 
the pair of crutches, — or over them ; and the old 
lame beggar is mounted, he knows not how, on the 
pony. But, worse than that, a strapping female 
peasant, staring one way and strolling another, has 
unwittingly tumbled over it, and finds herself thus 
mounted behind on the struggling up-scrambling 
beast, without a pillion, and, unfortunately, without 
a riding habit, which happened to be rather needful 
under the circumstances. As to the pony, it con- 
tinued to perform curious pas-seuls on its knees 
and its nose, chiefly progressing on the former (like 
the soldiers in the play, who were commanded to 
march off the stage while down on their marrow- 
bones), to the discomfort of its unwilling riders. 

The Portuguese, like the Spaniards, have, I am 
told, a curious custom of hissing at each other, 
instead of calling ; even the brutes in Lisbon 
understand this language perfectly, and will stop 
directly if hissed at with the proper Portuguese 
amount of emphatic sibillation. I cannot say I 
observed it in Lisbon, but afterwards in Spain I 
remarked it very frequently. 

I am afraid the Portuguese are not very mer- 
ciful to animals. It appears that a little while ago 
they were notoriously the reverse ; but the muni- 
cipal authorities have done much to remove this 
reproach from them, in Lisbon at least, and doubt- 
less the salutary influence will spread by degrees. 

Formerly, the poor oxen who drew the ponde- 
rous, lumbering, creaking carts, which every stranger 
must observe with astonished curiosity, were 
shamefully treated, and their strength barbarously 



CUSTOMS. 



87 



overtaxed; now this* is forbidden by law. The 
goad used to be unsparingly applied to force the 
unhappy animals to draw immense loads up the 
acclivities of the streets. The regulations of the 
Municipal Chamber prohibit the taxing of the 
strength of these noble brutes beyond certain 
limits. It is to be hoped this decree will be most 
rigidly and scrupulously enforced. Honour to 
the authorities who thus inculcate one of the 
first duties of civilisation ! The noise that the 
carts I have mentioned make, is indescribably 
strange and harsh. The axle-tree and the wheel 
turn together, and if there were a whole regiment of 
Ixions put to torture on the latter, they could 
hardly give vent to their anguish in more dismal 
yells. 

There are some odd customs in Portugal : for 
instance, a tailor will sit at his work like a shoe- 
maker; a woman riding will constantly sit with 
her left side to the horse ; and a postilion frequently 
drives, riding on the left horse. Besides these and 
other distinctive peculiarities of a similar kind, 
they have a habit of fastening up a branch of 
laurel to denote a tavern — what a fall for the 
famous and fame-guerdoning bay ! The shop of a 
shaver of chins is known by two bits of green cloth 
being displayed at the window or door. If a 
house is to be let a sheet of white paper, guiltless of 
any inscription, is stuck to the window by the 
help of four or five vermilion-coloured wafers. 
This you might think to be a Lisbon mode of 
announcing a gambling haunt — for it looks most 
like a five of diamonds or hearts. 

Of old the barbers despised the luxury of having 
a shop, and were wont to bear their implements 



88 



CLOAKS. 



about with them ; and many a hairy Lusitanian 
might be seen squatted on an inverted barrel, sub- 
mitting his chin to the tender mercies of the ambu- 
latory operator in the open street. 

The traffickers in heterogeneous commodities in 
the Campo de Santa Anna " improve each shining 
hour/' by playing at quoits and cards while on the 
look-out for their expected gulls and gudgeons. 
Servants employ their leisure in an equally merito- 
rious manner, while waiting for their masters. 

During the hottest seasons the genuine Portu- 
guese will often appear enveloped in his thick warm 
cloak, even in the noon of the most scorching mid- 
summer day : but perhaps he may not be so wrong 
after all, for the fidalgo* moves along on such occa- 
sions at a pace not exceeding that which a snail 
might accomplish in a butter-and-eggs trot ; and 
this deliberate slow motion, together with the non- 
conducting nature of the stuff of which the cloak 
is fashioned, help materially to exclude, and combat 
against, heat, — indeed, this garment guards against 
the high temperature of summer, almost as suc- 
cessfully as it wards off cold in the winter months : 
" Cada terra com seu uso, cada roca com seu fuso." 

The lower classes in Lisbon are accounted tem- 
perate, steady, and well conducted, though not, 
perhaps, very shrewd or intelligent. The Gallegos 
do all the hard and severe work of the town, as 
the Irish do at New York. These poor laborious 
men are natives of Gallicia ; they are a stout, 
healthy, industrious race. They emigrate in large 
bodies from their own poverty-stricken country — 
some merely removing to more favoured portions of 

* Fidalgo is Portuguese ; Hidalgo, Spanish. 



GALLEGOS. 



89 



Spain ; but very many enter Portugal to acquire a 
little money, sufficient for their subsistence, by 
their strenuous exertions. 

The Gallegos seem an inoffensive and well- 
disposed people, but they are almost treated as 
helots ; in fact, they are looked down upon, and 
contemptuously spoken of, and often disdainfully 
and somewhat harshly treated by all classes, while, 
poor fellows ! they offer those of their own order, 
(who particularly seem to despise them,) a most ex- 
cellent example of industry, perseverance, economy, 
and self-reliance, and are all but invaluable to the 
middle and higher ranks of citizens. They appear, 
literally, to perform the whole drudgery of the me- 
tropolis. 

The humbler orders of Lisbon, although frugal 
in their habits, are conspicuously distinguished for 
their fastidiousness with regard to peculiar sorts 
and species of labour, as well as for their foolish 
contempt of the toiling sons of Gallicia, — and with 
ridiculous hauteur, out of place and season, a man 
of the working-classes will often decline engaging 
in any task that he chooses in his wisdom to con- 
sider " only suited for a Gallego ; " and thus fre- 
quently a Portuguese pauper will deliberately wander 
about, a squalid tatterdemalion, nay, sometimes 
will steal, starve, beg his bread, or share a meal 
with the hungry dogs, rather than demean himself 
(as he stupidly imagines) by adopting the busy 
habits and following the worthy example of the 
energetic Gallego, who is gradually furnishing his 
purse with a comfortable sum, and who sometimes 
even rises, step by step, to a decent position in 
society through his hard-working industry and 
honest efforts. 



90 



THEIR INDUSTRY. 



Occasionally, when these toiling immigrants 
have succeeded in laying by what to them seems 
a little fortune, they settle in the country of their 
adoption, becoming grocers, chandlers, tavern-keep- 
ers, &c. ; but commonly they go back to their own 
dear but impoverished fatherland, with the little 
property they have diligently acquired. 

Bent on supplying the necessaries of existence 
by their own active and zealous efforts, thus gaining 
their livelihood unexceptionably and independently, 
these humble sons of labour seem worthy of all 
respect, rather than of scorn, superciliousness, and 
rude contumely. 

It is an incontrovertible fact, however, that these 
poor Gallegos, instead of effecting any good by the 
example they set, do much harm, inasmuch as they 
spoil all Portuguese servants, who fancy, that to 
avoid doing as a Gallego does, uplifts them to a 
higher scale in the creation. Often one of these wor- 
thies, if desired to carry a small parcel, — perhaps a 
filagree card-case or a feather- fan, to the opposite 
house, or to your next-door neighbour, — will, with 
much dignity, liberally exert himself to walk the 
whole length of the street, or, maybe, a couple of 
streets, — to call a Gallego to convey the fearful 
burthen to its destination ! Expostulation is or- 
dinarily vain, the absurd answer to your very useless 
ratiocination being a cursory and curt, "Eu nao sou 
Gallego;" " I am not a Gallego." 

Those hewers of w r ood and drawers of water, 
the drudging Gallicians, are employed, among other 
occupations, in carrying supplies of the liquid ele- 
ment to the inhabitants of the city. This they 
convey in little barrels on their shoulders from the 
numerous fountains, and generally sell at the rate 



GALLEGOS. 



91 



of a halfpenny (ten reis) a barrel; but the price 
varies, being raised in seasons of drought to two- 
pence or threepence per barrel. 

The season we passed in the metropolis of 
Portugal was an almost unprecedentedly dry one, 
and the price paid for the indispensable supplies of 
water was proportionately high. 

The Gallegos engaged in carrying water to the 
houses of the citizens are obliged, by an especial 
police regulation, to carry one of the water-vessels, 
rilled to the brim, every night to his home; and 
if he should chance to hear the fire-bell, he is 
expected to be speedily on the spot, at its first 
sound, to give his aid in patting out the flames. 
The first of the brethren of the bucket and pail 
who makes his appearance on the spot, receives 
due reward for his promptitude and compliance 
with the regulations, but those who do not fulfil 
their obligations are very properly fined. 

The water-carriers display a medal made of 
brass, which bears two numbers ; the one indicating 
the division, and the other the fountain to which 
they belong. I have just learned that of late years, 
from what cause I know not, their character for 
fidelity and honesty has not stood so high as 
formerly, and any traveller intrusting a valuable 
parcel or trunk to one of these Gallegos had better 
require the man to deposit with him the badge above- 
mentioned, as a measure of security, through the 
instrumentality of which the defaulter would soon 
be discovered, if he attempted to run off with the 
stranger's property. 

The porters (those who carry luggage, run on 
errands, &c.) are almost universally Gallegos. 
Foreigners residing in Lisbon hardly ever em- 



92 



peasants' costume. 



ploy any but these men as male servants in 
their establishments. They are often found to be 
sharp, intelligent, and ready-witted, besides being 
active, and apparently indefatigable. A good many 
of the natives here also prefer them in the capacity 
of domestics to their own often idle and trouble- 
some countrymen. These Gallicians are jacks-of- 
all-trades, and nothing comes amiss to them ; and 
if you find a factotum in any Portuguese house, you 
may be sure he is a Gallego. 

The dress of the Portuguese peasants commonly 
consists of a vest of some strongly-contrasted and 
brilliant colours, trousers tied up by a bright red 
sash, eight or nine inches in breadth, and about 
four good yards in length. Occasionally they wear 
" calcoens," open at the knees. On their heads is 
perched, jauntily enough sometimes, a sugar-loaf, 
broad-brimmed hat, well adapted to shield their 
eyes from the sun ; a jacket, with numerous pendent 
buttons, is usually flung over the left shoulder. 
The front of the shut is frequently very handsomely 
embroidered, and it is kept together by brightly- 
gilded clasps, in place of those buttons that cause 
our housewives at home so much tribulation, time, 
and thread, and, alas ! so many twits and taps of 
an ungrateful world. They generally wear boots, 
and bear in their dexter hand a long cudgel, which 
is furnished at its lower extremity with a pon- 
derous brass ferule • this is not a weapon to be 
despised. The peasants are thoroughly accus- 
tomed to the use of it, and when necessary it 
proves in their hands a truly formidable im- 
plement. 

The country people are not, however, allowed by 
the authorities to bring these cudgels into the city, 



DRESS. 



93 



but are required by police regulations to deposit 
them at the gates when they come in, as indiscreet 
John Bull is generally requested to leave his staff 
of life — the universal British cotton umbrella — at 
the door of a museum or picture-gallery ; however, 
I think the Lusitanian peasants seem occasionally 
to evade this decree. 

The men and women of the lower orders here 
are reported to be enthusiastically fond of gay and 
glittering apparel ; if so, a stranger will be apt to 
think they are a very self-denying people, and do 
great violence to their inclinations, for assuredly 
their general aspect, when going about their busi- 
ness in the streets of the capital, is sober, subdued, 
and eminently Quaker-like. I have seen large crowds 
of them together, each one browner than the other. 
Nature is said to abhor brown — it is supposed to 
be one of her pet aversions — next to a vacuum, 
according to some authorities, she abominates that 
snuffy colour ; but the Portuguese seem particu- 
larly to affect it, as if to make up for the snubbing 
it receives at the hands of the great mother. 

Look at that demure, staid damsel, coming along, 
brown and all brown, save the snowy handkerchief, 
which, placed on her head, is fastened securely 
under her chin. Observe a little this handkerchief, 
so simple, so without ornament of any kind ; could 
any nun wear a head-dress more humble, more 
plain ? It is intended to cover the whole head and 
conceal the whole hair. Wait, however, a moment, 
till the fair brown one passes by. Do you see 
how cleverly she has defeated the purpose of this 
matronly handkerchief, and how skilfully and cun- 
ningly, by an unlimited supply of starch, she has 



94 



" CAPOTE E LENCO." 



stiffened and supported it so effectually, that it 
stands upon end (as her grandmother's hair would 
do if she saw it), and keeps off at a considerable and 
respectful distance from the back of the white neck 
and the plaits of the jetty chevelure, leaving both 
distinctly visible to the naked eye ? 

The "capote e lenco" is the name that the 
national costume we have been describing bears in 
Portugal. The capote is the large cloak of cloth 
(sometimes blue, but commonly brown), that conceals 
the figures of the wearers, and wraps them round so 
as almost to disguise them and make them abso- 
lutely look all alike ; and the lenco is the handker- 
chief. Still, we are informed, "the common people 
of Lisbon are very fond of brilliant and gaudy 
habiliments and that the female fruitsellers, and 
even the fishwomen, go to market with long gay 
pendants stuck in their ears, and trinkets of con- 
siderable cost disposed about their persons — under 
that everlasting brown cloak, of course. 

At church, or wherever numbers of them are 
assembled together, the women offer a singular 
appearance, as their heads, coiffe exactly in a similar 
manner, present a striking uniformity of aspect, 
which is not broken by the rest of their clothing. 
The female portion of a Portuguese congregation 
do not ever stand in the church. They are un- 
provided with seats or pews, and when they 
feel tired with kneeling they squat down, in Ori- 
ental fashion, on the bare pavement. They seem 
quite used to this way of reposing themselves, but 
foreigners find it almost more fatiguing than con- 
tinuing to stand. In their own houses they are 
said sometimes, particularly among the humbler 



CLERGY. 



95 



ranks, to prefer this uncouth mode of squatting 
to hoisting themselves on chairs, as is usually the 
case in Christian countries. 

It is stated that many of the clergy have become 
miserably poor since the suppression of the nu- 
merous religious establishments, and as they are 
unable to bestow the charitable donations they 
formerly profusely gave (often, indeed, hardly being 
able to subsist on the scant stipends that govern- 
ment allows them), their popularity is proportionately 
decreased. Besides this, during the many political 
convulsions that have shaken this ill-fated country, 
ecclesiastical preferments have frequently been 
thrown away upon persons of exceptionable cha- 
racter, as a reward for the number of votes they 
were enabled, by any means, foul or fair, to obtain 
at the elections, and not in consideration of their 
fitness for their sacred office, or their devotion to 
the cause of virtue and piety. Still it is said there 
are among them men of irreproachable lives, and 
of considerable learning and talent, — men, too, of 
distinguished energy and untiring zeal. 

At one time we are assured that many ministers 
of religion in this metropolis were seen begging 
their bread and importuning the passers-by, (who 
once looked up to them with respect and reverence, 
and many of whom they had, perhaps, relieved and 
benefitted in former days,) for a few reales ! Some 
actually perished of starvation, if we are to believe 
the chroniclers of these misfortunes ; while the vast 
and splendid property they once claimed as their 
own was put up to auction, and hastily disposed 
of for less than half its real value. The suppression 
of the tithes, and the present subjection of the 



96 



VISITS OF CONDOLENCE. 



church to the state, is held to be a fertile source of 
evil by some. 

In Lisbon, funerals are conducted with splendour 
or simplicity, as in most cities, according as the 
family and connexions of the deceased are wealthy 
and exalted, or otherwise ; but the surviving mem- 
bers of the family do not ever take part in the last 
melancholy ceremony. Instead of this, they follow 
the custom of remaining at home for eight days in 
a chamber, from which the light of day is almost 
entirely excluded; and here they receive in lugu- 
brious state the complimentary visits and condolences 
of their friends and acquaintances. 

The visitor has no very heavy duty imposed 
upon him ; he merely has to advance to the chief 
mourner, make a profound and silent salutation, 
take a seat for a short space of time in equal 
taciturnity, and then quietly steal away. A tale 
is told of an unfortunate English ambassador 
getting into an absurd scrape on one of these 
mournful occasions, when he wished to take the 
opportunity of complying with established Por- 
tuguese customs. A native family of his acquaint- 
ance was plunged into deep grief at the loss of one 
of its chief members. The ambassador determined 
on offering his compliments and condolence in the 
true Portuguese style. He informed himself exactly 
as to w T hat was expected of him, and thus having 
had his different minute interrogatories answered 
sufficiently and satisfactorily, he " rendered " himself 
(as the French say) at the house of the bereaved 
family, quite confident of playing his part to perfec- 
tion ; but, alas ! he knew not the precise spot in 
which was to be placed the representative of the 



A HAPPY MISTAKE. 



97 



regrets of those attached survivors who wept his 
departed friend; and being bewildered by the 
sudden transition from bright daylight to the 
artificially darkened apartment, and unable to dis- 
tinguish one object from another, he deliberately 
marched up to a large porcelain Chinese monster 
of some sort, taking it for the chief mourner, to 
which he made the most profound and sympathising 
bows with a ludicrously lugubrious air. He then 
groped his way to the first chair he could find, 
sat down (unluckily, with his back to the whole 
assembled company), rose, bowed again respectfully 
to the grinning idol, and having thus complimented 
it,— feeling before him, he sought the door. 

There were others that grinned besides the Chinese 
monster. The chief mourner and the rest of the sor- 
rowing company could not, maugre all their efforts, 
resist the inclination to laugh, which this singular 
mistake awakened, and ere long in the chamber of 
woe nothing was heard but a half-suppressed giggle, 
occasionally among the male spectators verging on 
a " guffaw," till the poor ambassador, discovering 
his error, rushed far faster away than he had come, 
horror-struck and greatly discomfited, and found 
he had unintentionally succeeded better in cheering 
the hearts of his bereaved acquaintances, at his own 
expense though, than all the other sympathisers who 
had attempted to proffer them consolation and 
comfort. 

The funerals of the poor here are generally any- 
thing but impressive or solemn. The departed in- 
digent are treated particularly roughly and uncere- 
moniously ; denied a coffin, they are often deprived, 
ere they are buried, of the ragged shrouds in which 
they are wrapped. When they arrive at the ceme- 

H 



98 



SANATORY REGULATIONS. 



tery, they are flung disrespectfully, thus disarrayed, 
into a loathsome trench, there to be huddled and 
heaped together indiscriminately with other putre- 
fying, impure relics of mortality. 

It is sad to reflect, that for no crime but poverty 
they should be treated with such irreverent and 
contemptuous carelessness. Sometimes, where the 
survivors can afford the expense, hired coffins are 
made use of, just to convey the remains to the 
burial-ground. The fees used to be enormous : 
now, I believe, they are diminished. They are re- 
gulated by an order of Government. I remember 
hearing at one time that serious riots took place on 
account of them. The poor people, unable to pay 
the fees, tried to bury their dead without satisfying 
these claims. This was strenuously opposed, and 
soldiers and mourners were to be seen fighting over 
the open graves, and disputing the passive remains 
of the dead; the latter forcing them into the shallow 
trench, and the former seizing them with sacrilegious 
hands, and dragging them — sometimes piecemeal — 
forth, while aiming deadly blows at those aggrieved 
and justly-incensed relatives and friends of the de- 
ceased — those hapless mourners, who sought but to 
place the cherished corpses in consecrated ground. 

The coffins of the richer classes have a lock and 
key ; and it is the custom to deposit this key, just 
before interment, in the hands of the person who 
acts the part of chief mourner during the ceremony. 
The receptacle is generally unlocked just ere it is 
committed to the ground, and a quantity of lime 
thrown over the body. By an excellent regulation, 
interments within the city are prohibited. 



CINTRA. 



99 



CHAPTER VI. 

A visit to beautiful Cintra is a pleasant duty im- 
posed on every casual sojourner in Lisbon, and 
we went there, of course. We were supplied by the 
hotel with a comfortable open carriage, drawn by a 
pair of very creditable -looking piebald horses. On our 
way we had an excellent view of the fine aqueduct, 
which, from particular portions of the road, is a truly 
splendid object. What a grand simplicity generally 
pervades these proud efforts of genius ! This noble 
work is admirable indeed, whether regarded in 
an artistical and picturesque, or an utilitarian 
point of view. To its symmetrical beauty there 
are, however, some drawbacks. Murphy tells 
us, " In examining the respective dimensions of 
the several archies, I find they do not reciprocally 
diminish in geometrical progression ; indeed, it is 
obvious to the eye and this he considers a great 
obstruction to the beauty of the perspective of this 
majestic aqueduct. 

The same writer thinks it would very materially 
contribute to the artistical perfection of the 
structure if all the arches were curves of a similar 
species, whereas fourteen of them are of a Gothic 
shape, — or pointed arches in a range, — while the 
remaining ones are semicircular. It appeared to 
him that the architect was apprehensive that the 
principal arches, if made of a semicircular form, 
would become exceedingly expensive, since they 
would have required a " higher extrados " than 



100 



NOBLE AQUEDUCT. 



pointed arches to preserve them in equilibrium ; for 
there is no arch, with the exception of " the cate- 
naria, that will sustain itself without an incumbent 
weight proportionable to the subtense." The great 
earthquake did not in the least degree injure this 
noble structure, which exemption from damage is 
held to be a striking proof of the excellence of the 
contignation. 

No portion of the mighty fabric has ever been 
known to fail ; and, therefore, if there are a few 
apparent defects in the design or execution of the 
aqueduct, artistically considered, on the whole it 
must be conceded that its architect has displayed 
vast skill and consummate ability. Over the arches 
is carried a vaulted corridor, more than nine feet 
high and five feet broad in the interior. A conti- 
nuous passage runs through this, in the centre of it, 
for the persons employed to keep it in order, who 
have constantly to attend to it ; and there is a semi- 
circular conduit (a channel of about thirteen inches 
in diameter) at each side, through which the water 
itself is conveyed. These channels are not laid in 
an inclined direction, as is the case in other aque- 
ducts, but horizontally. In order to compensate 
for this, the following contrivance is resorted to : 
a slight depression is made at certain intervals, by 
which the water is successfully impelled along the 
horizontal line ; and it is believed that this method 
requires less declension in conveying water than 
a continuous inclined line. 

For foot-passengers there are two thoroughfares 
along this great aqueduct; one on each side of 
the vaulted corridor : each walk is five feet in width, 
and is defended by a parapet of stone. John the 
Fifth laid the foundation of this fine structure 
in 1713 and in nineteen years from this date 



A GRAND IDEA NIPPED IN THE BUD. 101 

the great undertaking was brought to a pros- 
perous close. The architect who gave the design 
for the aqueduct, and who superintended its exe- 
cution, was Manoel da Maya. 

A work of this nature had been previously con- 
templated by King Emmanuel ; he proposed by such 
means to convey the water to the Praca do Rocio, 
and to erect at that place a superb fountain. A 
design was prepared ; and this consisted chiefly of a 
female figure representing Lisbon standing upon a 
pillar, supported, or guarded, by four enormous 
elephants, from whose voluminous trunks the water 
was to have copiously spouted : nothing was want- 
ing but the realisation of this project ; poor Lisbon 
remained standing on her column — on paper, at 
least, like Patience on a monument — waiting for 
the water, or, at any rate, for the accomplishment 
of this watery work, in vain, duly attended by her 
grenadier-guard of elephants. As for these " pretty 
pages " (for a royal dame), they were kept doubly 
"in waiting." Emmanuel had designs yet more 
elephantine to execute, and this colossal project was 
consequently neglected — left truncated and trunk- 
less. (The great flap-eared beasts will not lend 
themselves, it seems, to such works ; the generally- 
successful Napoleon's huge elephant-fountain simi- 
larly failed. Fountain - fanciers had better try 
whales.) 

One of our deposed kings, on being refused clean 
warm water to shave with, wept, and said that thus 
he would have it, in spite of them all. Lisbon in 
effigy could hardly have had this means of supplying 
herself with clean water — (warm she didn't require, 
not exactly wanting to shave ): so she remained, ex- 
hibiting a sort of reverse and antipode of Arethusa 



102 OBTAINING MONEY UNDER FALSE PRETENCES. 

in the fable. There the lady was turned into a 
fountain, — here the fountain seemed transmogrified 
into a lady. 

In the reign of Dom John the Third, the Infante, 
Dom Luiz, once more resuscitated the idea of the 
aqueduct and the fountain; but the project again 
died, nipped in the bud, — or frozen in the bubble. 

Luiz Marinho relates that a subscription was 
indeed made, by order of the senate, for the 
purpose, and that about 600,000 cruzadoes were 
collected ; but that this money, which ought to have 
been devoted to that useful and important national 
undertaking, which had so long been contemplated, 
was shamefully frittered away to pay the expenses 
of festivals and rejoicings at the public entry of 
Philip III. of Spain. When, at length, the mag- 
nificent structure was successfully progressing to- 
wards completion, the necessary expenses were par- 
tially defrayed by a tax of one real on each pound 
of meat sold in the capital. 

It is imagined, from the ruins of some old 
walls found in the neighbourhood, that the Romans, 
who had colonised Lusitania, had made an attempt 
to build an aqueduct in the same locality. Such as 
it is now, few similar works, ancient or modern, can 
surpass the great aqueduct over the Valley of Al- 
cantara. The dimensions of it in the most depressed 
part of the valley are as follows : — 

Ft. In. 

Height of the arch from the ground to the intrados . 230 10 
From the vertex of the arch to the extrados (exclusive 

of the parapet) 9 8 

From the extrados to the top of the ventilator . .23 4 



Total height from the ground to the summit 

of the ventilator . . . . 263 10 



THE RESERVOIR AND ARCH. 



103 



Ft. In. 

Breadth of the principal arch . . . 107 8 

Breadth of the piers of the principal arch . .28 0 
Thickness of the piers in general . . . . 23 8 

The arches upon each side of the chief and 
highest one, diminish gradually in breadth as the 
piers whereupon they repose decrease in height 
with the declivity of the hills. 

The reservoir is worthy of inspection ; it is a 
considerable building of stone, for the purpose of 
forming a fit receptacle for the water conveyed 
through the superb aqueduct to the metropolis. It 
consists of a square basin, of large size, which has 
walls of enormous thickness, covered with a strong 
arched roof, supported by eight pilasters. A broad 
walk runs round this basin, and the water pours 
into the reservoir by a grand sweeping cascade. 
There is a subterraneous communication from hence 
with the mighty aqueduct, as well as with the dif- 
ferent and numerous fountains that are supplied by 
it in every part of the capital. 

There is a terrace above the reservoir that affords 
a charming prospect. It is open to visitors. If, 
on quitting this reservoir, we immediately traverse 
a space covered with mulberry-trees (and, there- 
fore, named " Das Amoreiras"), we shall next pass 
under an arch of the Doric order, which forms a 
portion of the aqueduct. This arch was erected at 
the expense of the city, to commemorate the final 
realization of the noble and long -contemplated 
project. 

There are Latin inscriptions on each side of 
this arch and on the " Casa de Registo." These 
inscriptions are an eulogy on the sovereign who 
brought the great undertaking to completion, and 



104 ROAD FROM LISBON TO CINTRA. 

a panegyric of the undertaking itself : the latter is 
addressed as " Orbis Miraculurn and the former 
as "Regum Maximus." If we then followed the direct 
line of the road before us, we should arrive at the city 
gates. In point of magnitude, this grand aqueduct 
may be considered not inferior, perhaps, to any that 
the mighty enterprise and skill of the Romans have 
left to the admiration of posterity. 

When you look upwards to the centre arch of 
this structure the effect is indescribably noble and 
sublime ; it is, or was once said to be, the highest arch 
in the world. Mr. Matthews, in his " Diary of an 
Invalid," remarks: "This vast work, w r hile it remains 
a monument of the industry of the Portuguese, 
would lead one to suppose that they were ignorant 
of the first principles of hydraulics, which have 
everywhere else superseded the necessity of such 
stupendous structures. Still, in point of archi- 
tectural grandeur and magnificence, it is a just 
source of national pride." 

The road from Lisbon to Cintra is a good one ; 
it is macadamised. There was remarkably little 
dust, although there had been no rain worth men- 
tioning in this part of the world for seven months. 
Everything, of course, looked wretchedly parched 
up and dry. The cattle in the adjacent country, 
and in more remote parts, had been for some time 
past perishing by thousands ; and all wore a deso- 
late, thirsty look. Earth seemed wrapt in a dull, 
dry silence, as if her tongue clave to the roof of 
her mouth. The sound of running water would 
have been inexpressibly refreshing, although it was 
not hot, being in the winter. Hosts and legions of 
windmills appeared on every side, playing busily on 
the surrounding heights. 



RESIDENCE OF THE INFANTA. 105 



After proceeding for a little time — I am not sure 
exactly where it was, but not very far from Lisbon — * 
we passed a new "quinta" of a fantastical nobleman, 
who seemed to fancy something in the Chinese- 
pagoda style would be a pleasant abode. He 
revelled, however, in luxuriant gardens. Then 
we came to the rambling, scrambling village of 
Bemfica. This place is rather a favourite resort 
of the Portuguese nobility ; it is pleasantly enough 
embosomed in groves of orange-trees and cork 
woods, and must be an agreeable place of abode 
during the summer months. The hedge-rows in 
this neighbourhood are commonly formed of the 
aloe and Indian fig. Here resides, or resided, the 
Princess Isabel Maria, aunt of the reigning queen, 
and regent before the arrival of her brother, Dom 
Miguel, from Vienna. 

The Infanta's noble palace is built at a little 
distance from the thoroughfare, on the left side : 
it is reported to contain a good museum of natural 
curiosities, and to possess some very rare botanical 
specimens. It is adorned by two splendid cedars, 
two very fine American pepper-trees, some Japanese 
trees, and a small grove of magnolias. Near this 
stands a Dominican church and convent : the latter 
has been sold, and turned unceremoniously into a 
manufactory ; but the church is still retained for the 
purpose of religious worship. 

Dom John de Castro (viceroy of the Indies) and 
John das Regras, a famed old statesman and lawyer 
in the time of Dom John the First, through whose 
skill and influence that sovereign obtained the 
throne in the Cortes of Coimbra, against the claims 
of his niece, the Infanta Donna Beatrix, — both lie 
buried in this old church. Several fine marble 



106 



AN UNINVITING PALACE. 



monuments are to be seen in the chapel of the 
Castros : the best are those of the celebrated vice- 
roy and of his son Alvaro. The image of the 
Madonna in this sacred edifice is the same that was 
taken from the walls of Tunis, when they were 
battered by the Lusitanian squadron that was de- 
spatched to the assistance of Charles V. under the 
command of the Prince Dom Luiz. 

When the top of the ascent was gained (which 
is called Porcarlhota, I believe after a Portuguese 
queen-consort, named Carlota), we soon came into 
the neighbourhood of Queluz, a royal palace of 
great and distinguished ugliness. It stands at the 
left side of the highroad, at about half or a quarter 
of a mile's distance. It forms a portion of that 
personal property of the royal family of Braganza 
which was known by the name of the Infantado : 
it is not inappropriately situated in a frightful 
country. The whole seems meant to be, by the 
united endeavours of Nature and Art, a foil to the 
coming, crowning attractions of lovely Cintra. 

I believe this palace was celebrated after the time 
of the civil war as the head-quarters of the Insurrec- 
tionist party. The Queen-mother at that time resided 
there in gloomy state, avoiding communication with 
the Court, and doing all that lay in her power to 
procure the return of her exiled son and the re- 
establishment of the ancient dynasty. 

Queluz was a favourite residence of Dom John 
VI., as well as of Dom Miguel, who sought to soften 
down its ugliness, — for to talk of beautifying seems 
out of place here, — and to improve it in various ways. 
He failed in the first : it still stands there — an eye- 
sore of an edifice, utterly ugly, and looking so indi- 
gestibly hard-favoured, that probably the great 



NOVEL HORSE FARE 



107 



earthquake itself would have objected seriously to 
swallowing it up. 

Dorn Pedro died here. The bed on which he 
breathed his last is still exhibited to those who have 
leisure and any curiosity to see it. The room in 
which it stands is called Don Quixote's, from 
its having a representation of some of the far- 
famed hero's comical adventures traced upon the 
ceiling. 

There is a large audience-room in this palace, 
and a saloon called that of the Talhas (vases), from 
having had once a collection of enormous China 
vases in it. It has some fine paintings on its 
ceiling. There is an agate Doric column in a 
private oratory here, originally taken from the ex- 
cavations at Herculaneum, and given to Dom Miguel 
by the Pope Leo XII. : the agate is in one un- 
broken piece. Surrounding this palace are large 
pleasure-grounds and gardens, in which are some 
fine specimens of rare plants and trees, pieces of 
sculpture, jets-d'eau, warrens for game, conserva- 
tories, hot-houses, and fish-ponds. From Queluz 
there is a spacious heath, dull and barren, ex- 
tending for some distance ; but the hills afar look 
splendid. 

When we arrived at a rather pretty -looking 
place, — I think, called Bio de Moira, — we stopped 
for our driver and his horses to refresh themselves 
a little. For this purpose a repast of bread and 
wine was provided speedily for the biped and the 
quadrupeds : they were hons vivants, and none of 
them had taken the pledge, evidently. As I 
watched the horses quietly munching their loaf, 
but not disposed to offer me the smallest slice — 
unsocial animals ! — I, feeling hungry, begged a bit 



108 



A TANTALISING SCENE. 



of bread from their superfluity. I am afraid the 
permission of the two rapacious piebalds was not 
asked, but a morsel of their bread was bestowed 
upon me, broken off from their own particular loaf. 
(I had lunched once before, in Holland, upon rye- 
bread, with the horses of a hired carriage there, — 
and found it excellent.) These four-legged custo- 
mers seem to employ honest bakers : I could detect 
no bones or alum in their " staff of life." If this 
fashion were to extend to London, imagine what 
sort of Trench rolls or household-bread, poor, though 
respectable, cab-horses, or even good-looking "jobs," 
would get for breakfast ! The bread was capital ; 
and I should not have been sorry for another piece, 
but did not like to deprive the poor horses of so 
much of their meal. 

A few ragged-coated, dissolute-looking donkeys, 
gazed with envious looks while the horses were 
discussing their wine : they seemed to expect to 
be invited to take a social glass, to the health of 
all friends, brayers or neighers. But they waited 
in vain ; they got not a single drop of the precious 
liquid (far less a bumper) : the horses were no such 
asses. They passed the bottle quietly, evidently 
determined not to ask that poor underbred set, 
so out-at-elbows, or out-at-knees haply, to partake, 
and to "join with bacchanalian" bray in their 
festivities. 

Did not the pampered steeds ever and anon, 
with the least toss of the head in the world, seem 
to say ironically to each poor Neddy in turn, — 
particularly to that one who is staring so earnestly 
as the piebalds take off their heel-taps, — 

" Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
And I will pledge with mine ?" 



ANOTHER ROYAL PALACE. 



109 



At any rate, this ocular hob-a-nobbing seemed the 
only one the forlorn hee-haws had any chance of. 

The long-eared gentry must really be excused 
for their apparently immoderate longing to indulge 
in the juice of the grape, for the hapless animals were 
naturally utterly demoralised by the long-continued 
drought ; and it must have been tantalising to them 
to see their neighbours " with a jolly full bottle," 
while they had not so much as a thimbleful of weak 
negus. Unlucky brutes ! according to the opinion 
generally entertained of them, they could not even 
console themselves by " the feast of reason and the 
flow of soul." 

The horses took no farther notice of their country 
cousins, and proposed not their healths in a neat 
neigh, to be responded to by a well-turned highly- 
complimentary bray ; in short, they kept their own 
counsel and their "old port" and cold collation to 
themselves : whatever their port was, they were 
very crusty over it. Really one began to be a little 
afraid, that if the carouse were a lengthened one, in 
incoherent whinnyings, and with somewhat thick- 
ened and inarticulate snorts, they might protest — 

" We won't go home till morning." 

But no ; after a brief halt we continued on our way. 
The worthy long-tailed piebalds did not remain long 
at table, and certainly committed no excesses over 
their bottle, for they did not seem at all inebriated 
by their potations : if they were, they were obliging 
and good-humoured in their cups, — as far as we 
were concerned, — for they drew us at a pleasant 
pace towards our destination. 

There is another royal residence to be passed 
before the traveller reaches Cintra — the palace and 



110 



A SUGAR PLANTATION. 



quint a of Ramalhao, which was the private pro- 
perty of Donna Carlotta Joachina (probably it was 
after her Porcarlhota was named), the consort of 
Dom John VI., and great-grandmother to Donna 
Maria da Gloria. Its pictures, reckoned valuable 
and fine, its furniture, and a collection of curiosi- 
ties, since the year 1834 have been removed; and 
it now possesses no feature of interest, being inter- 
nally a mere succession of deserted, dreary, spacious 
apartments, while externally its forsaken pleasure- 
grounds speak but of dilapidation and decay. 

The scenery began sensibly to improve. The 
vegetation seemed more abundant; silver-poplar 
avenues adorned the road ; elm and oak, and bay 
and willow, made their appearance ; here and there 
we observed patches of sugar-cane. There is a sugar- 
factory worked by steam in the neighbourhood of 
the metropolis, and the sugar that we have every 
day for breakfast and tea — indeed, all that is 
provided for our consumption, is made from the 
Portuguese sugar-cane. It is extremely good : I 
think a less quantity is sufficient to sweeten the tea 
or coffee than we put in usually of the sugar in use 
in England. It does not look so good, so well- 
refined, so white, or, perhaps, so close-grained, but 
for sweetening purposes, which I apprehend it is 
chiefly designed for, commend me to the sugar we 
had in Lisbon. Soon we had a good view of the 
towering mass of rocks, which recall Lord Byron's 
account of the " Horrid crags by toppling convent 
crowned," &c. 

At the base of the rock, on its eastern side, is a 
hamlet denominated Sao Pedro ; and here you 
behold the fine quinta and the delightful pleasure- 
grounds belonging to the Marquis of Vianna ; now 



CONVENT OF NOSSA SENHORA DA PENA. Ill 

you turn the edge of the craggy elevation, and 
descend towards the charming town of Cintra, lying 
to the north of the singular hill, at whose feet (or 
rather climbing fantastically about its base, — like a 
snowy parasite of stone, round that huge, gnarled, 
giant trunk of a mountain,) shines white and graceful 
Cintra ; the hill seemed diademed with rocky pin- 
nacles and jutting- out crags, contrasting curiously 
with the woods that embosom its base luxuriantly. 

We went to a good hotel, which belongs to the 
proprietor of the Braganza Hotel in Lisbon, and as 
soon as a donkey was ready for my companion, we 
turned our steps in the direction of the convent- 
castle of Nossa Senhora da Pena. Among all the 
various beauties of the scene, the lover of the pic- 
turesque will be rather startled at the sight of two 
huge, staring, unmitigated kitchen - chimneys, of 
the most portentous dimensions. Has the famed 
Soyer built here a Soup-Kitchen of all Nations, or 
is it a vast college for budding cooks ? No ; it is 
the royal palace of Portugal's reigning queen. 

Before I enter into any description of the con- 
vent, I will give a brief account of this palace. 
Those unfortunate large conical chimneys, at which 
every tourist has let fly a shaft of ridicule, I will 
say no more about. Let them vanish in their own 
smoke — exit in fumo. The building may be visited 
by a permission from the " Alniocharife," a name 
whose Moorish derivation is most obvious ; literally, 
I believe, it means a tax-gatherer. The functionary 
now rejoicing in this title, however, is the resident 
superintendent. Of course, it is only when the 
Queen is not there that the permission to view its 
interior is conceded to strangers. 

The architecture of the palace is a medley, partly 



112 



A HINT TO DECORATORS. 



Moorish and partly Christian : the windows are de- 
corated with arabesque ornaments, representing leaf- 
less boughs or branches of trees, delicately inter- 
laced. In the recesses of these windows there are 
slight granite columns, sustaining arches built each 
of a single piece of stone. The anachronisms of 
the outside have corresponding anachronisms within, 
and relics and reminiscences of events historically 
interesting, but appertaining to epochs far removed 
from each other, are profusely scattered over the 
suites of apartments. 

No doubt is entertained but that the building 
owed its origin to the Moors ; the abundance of 
water -works, jets-d'eau, fountains, and reservoirs, 
on all sides, satisfactorily enough prove this, in 
addition to the prevailing style and aspect of this 
architectural mongrel. It was, most likely, the 
Alcazar of the Saracen kings of Lisbon. 

It was John I. who had it altered and prepared 
for a regal residence for the European sovereigns 
of Portugal — for the most faithful of Christian 
kings. The Sola das peg as (or drawing-room of 
the magpies) was, in all probability, painted by 
his own command ; but if not, by that of the 
Queen-consort, Philippa of Lancaster. The frieze 
and ceiling of this large saloon are entirely painted 
over with magpies, each separate bird having in 
its beak a scroll or ticket, on which are to be 
distinguished the two words, " Por bem :" the 
simple and literal translation would be, " For Good 
or Well/' but it is used in the sense of what we 
should express in English by " No harm meant," 
"No Evil." This "Por bem" was the chosen 
device of King John the First of Portugal. It 
is said to have originated in something of the 



ROYAL GALLANTRY. 



113 



same nature as the incident which gave (or was 
supposed to give) rise to the motto of our Order of 
the Garter, " Honi soit qui mal y pense." 

The Portuguese king was, according to historical 
gossips or court chroniclers, once upon a time found 
by the queen in the act of gently saluting the cheek 
of a very fair maid of honour; the English Philippa 
darted looks of keen indignation at the unlucky 
damsel, but the king stepping forward, in a some- 
what confused manner, apologetically murmured a 
brief explanation, — a pithy defence of the suspicious 
transaction, in the words he afterwards selected for 
his motto, "For bem." Perhaps he meant to express 
that, under a paternal government, such a fatherly 
salute was neither inappropriate nor ill-judged. 

Afterwards, they say, the monarch ordered that 
the words should be inscribed repeatedly over the 
ceiling of this royal chamber, in order that, if the 
story should be made public, the defence should be 
equally so. This is not the only explanation given 
of the choice of this motto, and of its so perpetu- 
ally meeting the eye in this apartment. Gabbling 
tongues, it was supposed, having in reality given 
publicity to this unpleasant affair, the king deter- 
mined on this mode of reprimanding, or hurting 
and wounding the amour-propre of the jabbering 
courtiers. By thus satirically alluding to their foolish 
loquacity — thus, in short, slyly representing them 
under the form of the silly, ever-chattering pie, he 
had his revenge, and hoped, moreover, to cause 
them to be more circumspect for the future. 

A magpie saloon might not be altogether out 
of place in more modern courts, perhaps; and 
it might possibly hint to garrulous gossips that 
they had better occasionally hold their tongues, or 

I 



114 SALOON OF THE ESCUTCHEONS. 



reflect that all may be "For hem'' peradventure, 
that they have been mentally magnifying into mis- 
chief. Methinks it might do no harm in the court 
of the sister country. 

The noted Saloon of the Escutcheons was built 
by order of King Emmanuel. A circular roof 
crowns this apartment, which is on the second 
floor ; the centre of the ceiling is occupied by the 
royal arms of Portugal, and around them are clus- 
tered the arms of Emmanuel's five sons and of his 
two daughters. The remaining space of the ceiling 
is completely covered with the coats of arms of the 
nobility of Portugal, every separate shield depending 
from the head of a stag. There are, I believe, 
seventy-four escutcheons : two of the shields have 
been obliterated ; the one of the attainted family of 
Tavora, and the other that of the house of Aveiro, 
these noble families having been thought to be im- 
plicated in the attempt to assassinate Joseph I. 

These escutcheons are arranged in two concentric 
circles, so that no precedency is accorded to any 
one in particular. The following words appear on 
the frieze underneath the cornice ; they are inscribed 
in letters of gold : — 

" Pois com esforcos e leaes 
Servicos forao ganhados, 
Com estes e outros taes 

Devem de ser conservados." 

The literal translation would run thus : — 

Whereas with exertions and services 
Eight lo} T al they were earned, 
With these and with other such 
They ought to be preserved. 

The chamber in which the ill-fated Sebastian 



PRISON OF ALPHONSUS VI. 



115 



held his last audience ere his unfortunate African 
expedition took place, is situated in another part of 
the palace, and the chair is pointed out on which 
that unhappy prince sat on that occasion. 

In the neighbourhood of the chapel is the apart- 
ment in which poor Alphonsus VI. was incarcerated 
during the last fifteen years of his existence. The 
miserable king was accustomed to beguile the heavy 
hours of captivity by pacing up and down one side 
of the desolate chamber where he was imprisoned, 
and whence he could see from the windows the 
craggy steep which so picturesquely overhangs the 
town of Cintra ; and from which it w T as shrewdly 
conjectured that a faithful adherent, who still re- 
mained devoted to his sovereign in the midst of 
his overwhelming misfortunes, was wont constantly 
to make him signals of recognition, that cheered 
his drooping spirits and faintly revived his faulter- 
ing hopes. By his so continually walking back- 
ward and forward in the same confined space, the 
bricks which formed the floor of the apartment are 
perceptibly worn away and uneven on that side. 
This, at any rate, is the reason assigned for the 
pavement being sunken, or slightly hollowed, 
there. 

The illustrious captive was closely watched, and 
a rigorous surveillance was exercised. As a pre- 
cautionary measure, he was not allowed to enter 
the chapel to attend at the performance of mass : 
a narrow aperture was made for him over the choir, 
from which he could see what was going on at the 
altar without there being any chance of his being 
himself observed. This unfortunate king died here 
on 12th September, in the year 1683. 



116 AN ASS THAT SOUGHT DISTINCTION. 

Our good Queen Adelaide was, I believe, re- 
ceived here by the Queen of Portugal some years 
ago, when she was on her way to Madeira for her 
health. In the summer, Donna Maria generally 
passes a great deal of her time here ; and delicious 
must be the freshness and shadiness of this charm- 
ing retreat at that season of the year. The almost 
innumerable jets-d'eau must shed around them a 
coolness, made more enjoyable by the sound of 
their fresh balmy music. Donkestrianism is then 
the order of the day. The animal chosen to bear 
the weight of majesty need be of no common 
strength. A feeling man, meeting Donna Maria 
of Glory seated on her long-eared palfrey, might 
almost address the toiling creature something in 
the manner of Louis, the Grand Monarque, when 
he called out to the gout-oppressed Conde not to 
hurry himself, for that one who carried such a load 
of Glory could not be expected to walk fast. 

I went up on foot the whole way from the hotel 
to the Convent de la Pena. Our party stopped once 
for a while to rest a little, and the donkey which 
carried my companion seemed somewhat fatigued ; 
but the guide was loud in its praise : a capital donkey 
— a donkey of a dozen — pshaw ! a jackass of ten 
thousand — an ass among asses was he — and 
every inch an ass, which, for an ass, is to be ac- 
counted praise. But we must remember that 
" cada bufarinheiro louva seus alfinetes" — presently, 
however, that ass of asses — as he must have been 
to trouble himself to curvet about on that ascent — 
began to prance and become imposingly frisky and 
fidgetty, and marvellously mettlesome, as if his head 
had been turned by his master's praises: but he 



A MAGNIFICENT PROSPECT. 



117 



had a good excuse; the flies in the sun, even at 
that season of the year, incommoded him sufficiently 
to produce these signs of spirit. 

I was not sorry when I arrived at the summit of 
the hill • but my ambition and wish to behold the 
splendid prospect that I felt must await us from 
the highest point, carried me up to the very top- 
most roof and terrace of the old castle-convent. A 
glorious prospect it was, indeed ! First and fore- 
most, there is the deep purple of the mighty Atlantic, 
with all its vast, illimitable grandeur, spreading 
away sublimely to the West, — leading the thoughts 
ever to that young fresh World of the West, which 
seems to associate and link itself so well with the 
boundless Ocean, which has empire, victory, and 
liberty in every billow : giant there calls to giant ! — 
Then there is the fine scenery stretching south of 
the broad river, the noble Tagus, — with its towering 
succession of hills, and deeply -shadowing forests 
of stately pines ; and behind these, the faintly- seen 
blue peaks of the more distant heights — the Arra- 
bida mountains. 

Then the " abounding river " must not itself be 
forgotten, nor the far-off hills of Monsanto, in the 
direction of the finely-situated metropolis. Then, as 
far as the straining gaze can reach to the north, a 
vast plain is beheld, beautifully diversified with cul- 
tivated tracts, clusters of trees or aromatic bushes, 
and lonely heaths, and occasionally variegated by 
fields of the tropical-looking sugar-cane ; and these 
are interspersed with hamlets and scattered houses, 
quintas, gardens, and pleasure-grounds. Mafra, 
with its colossal grandeur, strikes the eye with 
wonder, as it rises, towering towards the sky, and 



118 DESCRIPTION OF THE CASTLE-CONVENT: 

spreading afar its enormous proportions, looking like 
a mountain architecturally fashioned by giants. 

A few words respecting this vast structure may 
not be amiss here. It is a united convent and palace, 
— indeed altogether, strictly speaking, it consists of 
a monastery, a cathedral, and two palaces, the entire 
edifice forming an enormous parallelogram, of which 
the two longest sides run from north to south, and 
are of immense length: some writers say, 1150 
feet long; others, 760: probably the truth lies 
between these two figures. It is supposed to be 
built on the model of the Spanish Escurial. Of this 
vast mass of buildings, the front, which faces the 
west, comprises the palaces and the church — the 
latter being in the centre. The approach to this 
church is gained by a majestic flight of steps, which 
have a very striking and imposing appearance. 

That palace which lies on the north side of the 
church was the residence of the king, and the one 
to the south that of his consort. Both have four 
stories, are terminated by magnificent parapetted 
towers, and are surmounted by noble terraces. 
These united palaces might, it is said, and without 
giving them bad accommodation, contain all the 
courts of Europe together. To what various pur- 
poses might, and probably would, this colossal pile 
be applied in different countries ! In America, it 
would most likely be a mammoth hotel ; in England, 
a manufactory, if it escaped being baths and a huge 
wash-house ; in Russia, a barrack ; in Bavaria, a 
national gallery ; in Ireland, a poor-house ; in 
Western Africa, a big barracoon ; in Austria, per- 
haps, it would be made a prison ; in California, a 
gigantic gambling-house ; in France, a vast dancing- 



ITS IMMENSE PROPORTIONS. 



119 



academy for the million ; in utilitarian Holland it 
might be turned into a madhouse, — if the sober, 
phlegmatic Dutch, ever do go mad ; in Italy, into a 
monster opera-house — or rather three or four opera- 
houses rolled into one, — (the Scala at Milan would 
indeed have to hide its diminished head!) — but, 
in Portugal, it is simply — nothing. 

The roof of the whole immense structure is one 
grand terrace, at a great height from the ground. 
The sole apertures are those of the courts, of which 
there are nine — one very large one, two rather less 
spacious, and six of inconsiderable size. The only 
objects which soar above the level of this vast ma- 
jestic terrace are the cupolas and the dome of the 
church, and the two fine lateral towers facing the 
west (each 350 feet in height). It is thought that 
ten thousand men might be reviewed upon this 
superb marble plain, half-way to the clouds ! 

The entire mass of buildings contains not far 
from a thousand halls, ante-rooms, and chambers, 
and more than five thousand doors and gates. 
The two palaces are almost fac-similes of each 
other in point of architectural details, and there- 
fore a slight description of one will suffice. We 
will introduce the reader to the northern one. On 
entering, he will find himself in a nearly interminable 
series of passages and corridors, of vast length. To 
extricate him from this labyrinth, he will find doors 
that communicate to the apartments on either side ; 
these apartments also have a communication with 
each other. When they are thrown open, the suite 
of rooms collectively have a fine effect, but indi- 
vidually they do not at all correspond with the 
colossal and truly regal edifice of which they form 
part, being disproportionately diminutive, although 



120 REMAINS OF DEPARTED GRANDEUR. 

some of them would in other situations be consi- 
dered fine apartments. 

Representations of mythological and allegorical 
subjects in fresco form the decorations that em- 
bellish the walls and ceilings of these saloons; mar- 
bles, arranged in complicated fantastical patterns, 
constitute the floors ; and there are frequently seen 
in the rooms costly columns of a similar material. 

Dom John VI. 's audience-room remains exactly 
as it was when he inhabited Mafra after his 
return from South America. It is hung with 
damask and velvet curtains, and it is the only 
room here that affords a slight idea of what this 
mighty palace was when its huge walls sheltered 
a luxurious and brilliant court. The window- 
frames and the doors are constructed of the most 
precious woods the vast empire of the Brazils could 
supply, but a vile taste has actually shrouded under 
a coat of paint their varied splendour. 

The convent should next be visited. It is dedi- 
cated to St. Anthony, and was held by reformed 
Franciscans. Augustinian canons superseded these 
for a time, but they were subsequently reinstated 
in the building, and continued to possess it till the 
monastery was finally suppressed in the year 1833. 
It is built in the form of a square, having an open 
cloister in the interior, and this with great taste is 
made into a charming garden, which is freshened and 
embellished by a graceful fountain and a large tank 
in the centre. In the summer months, the luxurious 
coolness of this spacious retreat is described as being 
beyond imagination delightful. 

As is the case with St. Peter's in Rome, this 
enormous pile boasts of a special climate of its 
own. When all is heat and glare without, within 



ARRANGEMENTS OF THE INTERIOR. 121 



those massive walls reigns a pleasant and refresh- 
ing temperature ; and amidst the cold of winter, 
the atmosphere here is mild and softened. The 
stillness, too, is worthy of remark. Few sounds 
can find their way through these strong obstruc- 
tions. The different entrances into the monas- 
tery, those from without as well as those from the 
palace or church, all conduct you to a large cor- 
ridor, that runs the entire length of the building 
from north to south. There are three rows of 
windows in this, as beheld from the exterior : one 
looking toward the refectory, the lavatories, and a 
chamber known by the denomination " De Pro- 
fundi s another to a set of chambers, out of some 
of which a chapel, which had seven altars, was 
formed, to enable the reverend brethren to say their 
masses at an earlier period of the clay. The third 
row of windows are those belonging to the chapel 
and the chambers of the noviciate. If we enter it from 
the south, we previously pass through a noble clois- 
ter, environed by columns, supporting an arcade, over 
which there is a balustraded verandah. If it is from 
the north, we cross a similar cloister, and pass the fine 
chapel, " do Campo Santo," named thus on account 
of the monks being here interred, and their funeral 
obsequies taking place in it. It has a white marble 
altar, sustained by white and black columns of the 
same material. These cloisters have each two 
lesser corridors, for the accommodation of the 
community when public processions were made 
around the church. The celebrated corridor before- 
mentioned is of great length and breadth ; noble 
porticoes and doorways from this lead to various 
public apartments, among others to the spacious 
"Casa dos Actos," where were held the scholastic 



122 



THE LIBRARY AT MAFRA. 



theses. The lavatory is one of the next rooms ; 
it is fitted with fountains and basins of marble. 
After passing through another handsome chamber, 
the visitor reaches the refectory, which is of fine 
proportions. Here is placed a large painting of 
the Lord's Supper, enclosed in a frame of blue 
marble. There are thirty-six tables, the seats around 
are formed of Brazilian wood, with backs of polished 
yellow marble. There are about 300 cells and an 
infirmary ; these cells are comfortably-sized, commo- 
dious rooms. The infirmary is divided into diffe- 
rent parts. At one end is a chapel, well built 
and finished, and provided with galleries corre- 
sponding to the different floors, so that the sick 
might have the solace and benefit of the minis- 
trations of religion, without much fatigue, or risk 
of draughts by coming through many winding 
passages. There is a curious echo in the chapter- 
room — a fine apartment, of an oval shape ; this 
echo is said to surpass the one at St. Paul's. 
When our troops were at Mafra, they conducted 
themselves exceedingly well, and gained — heretics 
and foreigners though they were — the good-will of 
the monks. At first they could not resist occa- 
sionally the temptation of shying an old shoe, Lord 
Carnarvon informs us, at the cowls of the reverend 
fathers, but on Sir Edward Blakeney restraining 
these slight ebullitions of a mischievous spirit, 
peace and good-feeling were re-established. 

I must not omit a brief mention of the library 
at Mafra, which is three hundred feet long, and 
large and lofty in proportion. Here are some 
splendidly-illuminated copies of the first editions 
of the Roman and Greek classics. The library 
is supposed to contain at least thirty thousand 



CURIOUS ADJUNCTS TO A KITCHEN-GARDEN. 123 

volumes. Mr. Beckford, I believe, says sixty thou- 
sand ; but this appears to be an unintentional ex- 
aggeration. There is a walled enclosure attached 
to the monastery, containing a well of the purest 
water, and a spacious tank. There are also some 
charming shrubberies, and clusters of fruit-trees and 
shady pathways, lined with box-hedges. Besides 
this, there are two artificial ornamental lakes ; these 
are contiguous to, or belonging to, the kitchen - 
garden : — of course, there is a capital one here ! 
Everything that aids to produce good cheer is sure 
to be found where monkish establishments have 
flourished — ca va sans dire. There are said to be 
six -and -twenty statues in this kitchen-garden; of 
whom I know not, and such artistical works seem 
works of supererogation in a kitchen-garden. Venus 
rising from a bed of cabbages would be certainly 
out of place, or Alexander the Great bounded by 
a border of spinage, or Julius Caesar smothered in 
onions, or Bacon recumbent amid beans, or St. 
Anthony himself (if the statues were of an eccle- 
siastical description) surrounded by clouds of cauli- 
flowers. It is true that I have seen clouds carved in 
marble that presented a singularly colewortical ap- 
pearance, — but that was an accidental resemblance. 
The statue, perhaps, that should have been placed 
here is that of the great cook, Vatel, who killed him- 
self because there was no fish for the king's dinner. 
There is a royal park behind this ; its wall measures 
three leagues in circumference. The clocks and 
belfry are deserving of mention ; the machinery 
of the former fills a good-sized room. The bells 
were cast at Liege or Antwerp ; they contain (and 
they cost) a truly enormous weight of metal, and 



124 SOURCE OF A PORTUGUESE PROVERB. 

possess, I am informed, much sweetness and depth 
of tone. 

The church is a very fine one, and is an imita- 
tion on a far smaller scale of the mighty St. Peter's. 
It is completely built of different marbles, of the 
most exquisite hues, carved carefully into almost 
innumerable varieties of designs. The high altar 
is decorated by two magnificent pillars, of a red- 
dish-coloured and variegated marble, each being a 
single block, about thirty feet high. The altar- 
piece is painted by Trevisani. There are six col- 
lateral chapels, each adorned with fine bassi relievi ; 
the noble portals of these, the ceiling, the pavement, 
the dome, even to the very highest lantern, are all 
enriched and crusted over with the same splendid 
and imperishable material. The sacristy is reached 
through a lengthy, covered gallery. It is a superb 
vaulted hall, panelled with the most exquisite varie- 
ties of costly porphyry and alabaster. The church 
possesses six highly -decorated organs. 

With reference to the vast dimensions of the 
dome the Portuguese have adopted a proverb, to 
signify any huge and grand undertaking. It stands 
proudly over the transept, and from the great ter- 
race I remarked upon before (which forms the 
roof of this majestic edifice), it looks like a stately 
temple from the ample paths and walks of a 
princely garden. Altogether, the church is gene- 
rally reckoned superior in architectural design 
to the rest of the structure. Indeed, as an archi- 
tectural production, it is by some good judges pro- 
nounced to be perfect, and free from the too-prevalent 
absurdity of disfiguring anachronisms, and from any 
inconsiderately-introduced admixture of styles. 



SUPPOSED ORIGIN OF THE BUILDING. 125 

Viewed as a whole, the enormous double palaces 
and church of Mafra are ordinarily pronounced to 
be, architecturally considered, more remarkable for 
their extraordinary size than for any superior or 
striking merits. 

This vast pile looks almost like a mountain 
reared on a mountain, an architectural Alp, a very 
Caucasus of stone, and mortar, and masonry. 

There are various accounts commonly given re- 
specting the origin of Mafra; the one that appears 
most worthy of credit is, that John V. vowed if a 
son were born to him, he would erect a monastery 
in the place where stood the poorest priory that 
could be discovered in his royal dominions. When 
Dom Joseph (afterwards Joseph I.) was born, 
Mafra was pointed out, since there stood a hut 
holding a dozen half-starved monks of some neglected 
impoverished order. The architect was one Joao 
Frederico Ludovici, said to be a German, although 
the name would assuredly suggest an Italian origin. 

But let us back to Cintra. The summit of the 
mountain in the neighbourhood of the convent 
has been laid out in delightful shrubberies, inter- 
spersed with flowery parterres and pools of clear 
water : the soft nature of the rock greatly facilitated 
these various improvements, particularly where 
it had to be cut for pathways, or winding walks 
had to be made. From these graceful gardens 
there is a path that conducts the excursionist to 
the old Moorish Castle ; the remains of this are 
on the peak, to the westward of that on which 
stands the convent " da Pena," and they over- 
hang the town of Cintra. They comprise little but 
the fragments of venerable walls, curiously con- 



126 



THE WATERS OF CINTRA. 



structed along the rocky ridges and above the 
cavities. There are some ruins about half way 
up the hill, which are thought to be the remnants 
of a mezquita, or Moorish mosque. Part of the 
roof is still to be seen ; and dim vestiges of stars, 
traced on a ground of blue, may be detected. Sara- 
cenic characters in some parts may be discovered 
scattered over the walls. 

A quadrangular cistern, supposed to have been 
a bath in the time of the Moors, is found in 
another portion of the same enclosure. It is 
seventeen feet broad and fifty feet long, built of 
stone, and with a vaulted roof. The water it 
contains is always clear and limpid, and of almost 
exactly the same height at all seasons of the year. 
It is about four feet in depth. It is matter of 
surprise to all tourists, that so inexhaustible and 
copious a body of water should be found at this 
elevation, but a yet more considerable natural repo- 
sitory must be concealed somewhere in the " serra," 
to provide for all the abundant fountains and 
streams that in different places spring from the 
sides and the base of the steep, and which are 
stated to be unfailing, even after seasons of the 
severest drought. 

These perpetual streams do not a little contri- 
bute to the charm of this neighbourhood, by the 
freshness and fertility they scatter around them with 
their playful and pearly spray. Cintra is celebrated 
for the extreme purity of its water, its diamond clear- 
ness, and its delicious coldness, which affords a 
charming contrast to the Lisbon water, winch so 
often is tepid, that most horrible of states, — shilly- 
shallying between cold and hot. 



SLIGHT ERRORS IN DR. PFLENDLER's WORK. 127 

" Warmth man may prize, nor cold abominate, 
But shilly-shallying wakes his wrath and hate." 

The Pena convent formerly belonged to the 
monks of the Jeronymite convent of Belern. It 
was King Emmanuel who built it on this steep 
and craggy rock — that rock which he had so 
frequently climbed in hopes of descrying the 
returning squadron of the enterprising Vascol 
da Gama, and from whose summit at length he 
had the good fortune to perceive it; for the 
king was the first to discover the homeward- 
bound fleet. After the monastery had been, like 
others, secularised and sold, the "Pena" became 
transferred to the hands of a private individual. 
His present majesty purchased it afterwards, in 
a dilapidated and neglected condition, and soon 
occupied himself in having it restored ; or, rather, 
converted into a castellated palace, somewhat in the 
Norman or Gothic style, which flourished towards 
the end of the twelfth century. 

Dr. Pflendler D'Ollensheim, in his little work 
entitled " Madera, Nice, y Andalucia," informs 
us that this building was undertaken and the 
works carried on beneath the superintendence of 
a German — Baron Eschiwege — in imitation of some 
of the ancient castles of Germany, such as the Rhein- 
fels and the venerable Schloss of Lachsembourg, in 
the neighbourhood of Vienna. 

The same author declares that the air of this 
charming locality would be exceedingly beneficial 
to nervous or hypochondriacal patients. I dare say 
the medical information and observations of the 
doctor are very correct, but he made some mistakes 
in his book regarding persons. He informs his 



128 



A SERIOUS DILEMMA. 



readers that Queen Victoria's mother, the Duchess 
of Kent, was at Madeira at the same time that 
poor Prince Alexander of Holland and the Duke 
of Saxe- Weimar were there, whereas it was our 
lamented Queen Adelaide. In some' other things 
he seems to have been slightly misinformed. 

Dr. Pflendler gives a melancholy account of a 
voyage he performed in a " Goleta Espanola," 
having under his care and medical superintendence 
two young English ladies, suffering from severe 
consumptive symptoms, and bound to Madeira. 
As the narrative is interesting, and declared to be 
true, I will translate it. 

The voyage was tempestuous, and the youngest 
of the English ladies, "Miss Emmy," died. One 
of the conditions, says the doctor, which the ladies 
had made with the Spanish captain was, that if 
either or both of them died, they were not to be 
thrown into the sea; in short, if such a cata- 
strophe occurred, they were to be carried on to 
Madeira. 

Unhappily, the vessel was prevented by contrary 
winds and bad weather from reaching the island that 
was its destination. A terrible effluvia began soon 
to render the ship almost as unwholesome as some 
parts of our proud but pestilential metropolis, and 
the signs of mutiny were, ere long, beginning to 
manifest themselves unmistakeably among the crew • 
the passengers might well have been expected to 
join in this insurrectionary movement : it was a 
horrible situation for some unhappy women, who 
were shut up in a wretched cabin, and tossing 
about in dreadful weather, alarmed for the safety 
of their lives, and in the close neighbourhood of 
the corpse. 



A WAR OF WORDS. 



129 



The doctor, it appears, was commissioned by the 
captain to watch the remains, and not to allow 
them to be committed to the deep. He gives a 
rather quaint account of his intense horror, when 
part of the revolted crew came to declare war to 
him, brandishing uncommon {descomunal) and 
tremendous " navajas," and vowing that he should 
submit to their conditions, and with his own 
hands fling the remains of the unfortunate " In- 
gles a " into the deep. In the mean time the 
afflicted sister of the deceased rushed to the cap- 
tain, and offering him an additional sum of three, 
or, I think, he afterwards says,, four thousand reals, 
succeeded in determining him not to give way to 
the demands of the excited crew. 

At length harmony was restored by the doctor 
proposing to embalm the body immediately. The 
passengers, particularly, gladly accepted this offer. 
But it was more easily said than done ; some of his 
necessary instruments were broken by the clumsi- 
ness of a nautical assistant, and the operation, which 
he was obliged to manage as he best could, in some 
old-fashioned exploded way, was one of a very 
delicate, dangerous, and painful description • (the 
poor doctor says he was ill for a fortnight after- 
wards ;) however, at last all was happily accom- 
plished ; but, then, most unfortunately, the weather, 
instead of being ameliorated, as they had hoped at 
one time, shortly after this grew worse, and the 
crew became more outrageous than ever against 
the doctor and his dead patient. The vessel was 
tossing amid terrific waves off Cape St. Vincent, 
instead of pursuing her course to Madeira; and 
the wild and superstitious terrors of the sailors 
were at their height. 

K 



130 



THE DOCTOR DEFEATED, 



They surrounded the poor medico, and strove 
to bear away the body by force. He declares he 
fought stoutly for a time, but the mate, flourishing 
a horrible " navaja del Santolio" declared he 
would immediately prepare his living person for 
the process of embalming as completely as any 
surgeon in the world could ; adding, like a true 
Spaniard, — Yes! or as a bull would the body of 
a horse: — and the rest thundered and threatened 
around him, deaf to his entreaties and expos- 
tulations, as the howling waves themselves ; so 
that he soon yielded to their wishes, thus obstre- 
perously expressed, and with his own hands threw 
into the raging waters the embalmed form of the 
poor English girl, whose affectionate sister fainted 
at the sight. 

But, strange to say, the doctor declares, that, 
awakening after this exciting scene from a sleep 
that had weighed down his eyelids " after so much 
terrible exertion " (and alarm, he might have 
added), he "found the sky serene, the sea com- 
paratively smooth as glass," and a favourable 
wind blowing them gently towards the desired 
shores of Madeira : two more days, and they 
descried that fair island in the distance. It was 
about a fortnight since they had quitted Cadiz, 
and delighted, indeed, w r as the doctor at the sight ; 
lie evidently became a convert to the superstitious 
notions of the sailors respecting the evil influences 
attendant on the proximity of a corpse on board a 
ship. 

At length they arrived and landed, and the 
doctor describes his joy in the most enraptured 
terms. Like Tancredi in the opera, he theatrically 
bent his knees and kissed the friendly shore, so 



AND PEACE RESTORED. 



131 



enchanted was he to be delivered from — the excru- 
tiating pangs of sea-sickness, — (I do not believe 
Tancredi's rapture arose from exactly the same cause), 
— from the fury of a disorderly, tipsy crew, and 
all the varied horrors that had attended his mourn- 
ful voyage. " I swore," says he, in the excitement 
of the moment, " never more to take charge of sick 
people at sea ; unless/' adds he, a little conscience- 
stricken, perhaps, " it should be in a good steamer." 

The worthy M.D. seemed full of amiable feeling, 
but not possessed of remarkable intrepidity ; he 
wished to live a quiet life, neither killed nor killing 
— (the last, excepting always in the way of his pro- 
fession, peradventure, in a friendly, kind manner) — 
he desired to pass his days in peace, ever engaged, as 
the French doctor in the tale enthusiastically ex- 
pressed it, in watching some exquisite fever, or 
some most bewitching ague, some lovely jaundice, 
fascinating fit, graceful spasm, or other fine, ele- 
gant disorder ; with unscientific killing he had 
nothing to do. Doubtless he agreed with that 
apothecary, who observed he thought war quite 
barbarous ; " for," exclaimed he indignantly, " if 
you must kill your enemies by wholesale, why not 
contrive to put them handsomely in the way of a 
good typhus, or a desperate cholera ? You should 
give the poor wretches a chance of dying a decent, 
pleasant, and comfortable death, at any rate." He 
clearly thought words should give place to lancets, 
and cannon-balls to boluses. 

But once more I must back to Cintra. 

A large, fine tower, together with several lateral 
turrets, and noble walls, adorned with machicolated 
battlements — I believe that is the term — appear 
to be already quite completed. These and an open 



132 



RETURN TO CINTRA. 



court enclose the two chief buildings. The whole 
of the palace is constructed, and bears the ap- 
pearance of being shut in, between the elevated 
peaks of the rock and huge basaltic masses. The 
part of the roof we climbed up to was partially 
surrounded by a very handsome and richly-carved 
species of stone fence, half balustrade and half bat- 
tlement. 

Fair spread the varied scenes, far, far below us. 
We had not yet had climbing enough, and clam- 
bered still higher to a lofty turret. Thence the view 
was naturally even more magnificent than from the 
roof. The monastic features of the interior of the 
edifice have been, in many respects, revived or pre- 
served. Both the chapel and the cloister remain 
almost precisely as they were in the days of the 
monks, save that a few partly-dilapidated portions 
have been restored, and several slight defects that 
originally were to be found there have been recti- 
fied with much skill and care. There is in the 
chapel a fine altar-piece of transparent jasper, richly 
inlaid with alabaster; this is carved in relievos, 
and it is surmounted with niches, for the reception 
of groups strikingly representing various passages 
of the New Testament, and environed by festoons of 
flowers, supported by pillars formed of black jasper. 
If a lighted candle is held behind the tabernacle, 
which is placed in the centre, it will reveal its trans- 
parency. An Italian artist is supposed to have 
executed the work by command of Dom John III. 

The apartments of the palace, according to 
their majesties' particular directions, have been 
adorned with considerable simplicity, and have no 
pretensions to regal splendour. The guide who 
conducted us through the palace was a very quiet 



CORK CONVENT. 



133 



one, and did not worry us, as occasionally happens, 
with long accounts of uninteresting trifles. What 
a pest they sometimes are ! In fine old cathedrals, 
for instance, when you would pause and feel the 
dread religion of the place, you are teased by their 
constant interruptions ; in some, I have been per- 
secuted, by various interlopers and hangers-on, be- 
sides the legitimate tormentor, — the rightful plague, 
the generally necessary evil, — all anxious to do the 
honours of particular pictures or relics, and deter- 
mined on trotting out certain poor, desecrated saints, 
who had anything remarkable about them, or their 
effigies, — for the inspection of the visitant. 

A road of good breadth in the Cintra rock, 
partly exposed and partly walled in, after many 
serpentining bends, conducts to a drawbridge lead- 
ing to the chief entrance of the castle, over which 
are suspended the royal arms of Portugal, together 
with those of Saxe-Coburg. 

There is a tolerable road over a rugged and 
frowning tract that leads to the Cork Convent, 
" Convento cla Cortica." This monastery, placed in 
a forlorn and solitary spot, in a recess of the craggy 
serra, and bearing a poverty-stricken aspect, recalls 
to memory its poverty-stricken, pious founder and 
projector, Joao de Castro, of whom on his death- 
bed — if, indeed, he had a bed to die upon — 
St. Francis Xavier, his confidential friend, re- 
marked, " the Viceroy of India is dying in such 
penury and want, that he has not wherewithal to 
purchase a fowl." 

This poor convent, or as some, I believe, call it, 
hermitage, comprises a church, a refectory, chapter- 
house, sacristy, and somewhere about twenty cells. 
The different apartments are in part built over the 



134 



A FRANCISCAN DORMITORY. 



surface, and partly they are formed of apertures in 
the rock ; they have cork linings throughout, as a 
means of counteracting the pernicious effects of the 
great damp ; and so these cork belts to their rooms 
were really " life-preservers " to the monks. It is 
from this circumstance the Convento da Cortica 
takes its name. 

In the time of the reverend occupants, all in 
their abode was squalid and shabby ; they gloried 
in having everything as uncomfortable as possible ; 
(query, would not a true Hibernian have found this 
place the perfection of all comfort ?) — such a thing 
as a bed was unknown to those reformed Franciscans. 
The bell at the entrance to the convent was rung « 
by the instrumentality of a vine-stem that obligingly 
lent itself to this service instead of a rope. Each 
cell was about five feet square, with very narrow, 
low doors, and in every respect they would have 
been better accommodation for the dead than the 
living. Conducting to the refectory there is a court, 
where had once flourished, we are told, fair flowers, 
such as hydrangeas and geraniums. (These monks 
had some taste, it seems.) The seats of the dining- 
cavern, for such it was, as well as their dining-tables, 
were roughly hewn out of the solid rock : they 
could certainly ask none to their hospitable board, 
or to sit round their mahogany, seeing they had 
nothing but a block of granite. 

At no great distance from the building a hole 
is to be seen, partially hidden by a huge stone : in 
this hole a hermit, named Honorius, literally lived 
for the last sixteen years of his life. Here he slept, 
and when he stretched himself out, or rather doubled 
himself up to rest (like those " folded flowers " Mrs. 
Hemans so prettily tells us of, I suppose, for there 



ROUGH SPECIMEN OF HERMIT LIFE. 



135 



was not room in the little cave for him to extend 
himself, at full length) — in the fashion of the defunct 
babes in the wood, a few dead leaves formed his 
couch — both his mattress and coverlet — and his 
night-garment too, probably • and he had not even a 
robin-redbreast for a valet, to aid him in arranging 
these, in his gloomy solitude ! — while a mishapen 
rough stone was his very incommodious pillow, which 
must have given him many a severe headache, one 
should imagine. Poor fellow ! what a treasure 
would a well-knitted anti-macassar have been to 
him ! not to protect his cushion of granite from 
contact with Rowland's infallible preservative, which 
he could not have had the advantage of using, but 
to preserve his own skull from the rough friction 
of such an apology for a bolster. However, not- 
withstanding this, and a multitude of acts of 
penance which the annals of the Order to which 
this convent belonged recount faithfully of him, 
Honorius lived to be ninety-five. 

The hermit was indeed a " folded flower " night 
and day, in his solitary life of penance ! Strange 
delusion ! to think such mortifications can please 
Him who has given us all things richly to enjoy, 
with thankfulness and moderation. 

From the humblest of flowers he might have 
learned a nobler lesson ; they, perhaps, fulfil their 
part better. " Of what use are flowers?" asked 
Hafir of the philosopher, who had been rather 
severe on poets in the course of conversation. 
" They are good to smell," replied the philosopher ; 
" And I to smell them," rejoined the bard, — " they 
are good to smell ! " — A pleasing quality, assuredly. 
I doubt if that much could be said of Honorius. 

The road from the Cork Convent to the west con- 



136 



COLLARES. 



tinues for a good distance to wind in and out among 
the bold and jutting crags. For the most part, the 
"serra" is formed of granite of unequal consis- 
tency; the grains are large in some places, ana 
small in others, and in some parts are very soft, 
so as to be with ease crushed by the hand, and in 
other portions extremely hard. The felspar it 
contains is generally of a greyish -tinged white, the 
mica black, and the quartz a dull white. Fine 
particles of magnetic iron mingle with them. 
Magnetic iron is also found in the mountain-crests, 
having a thickness of several inches. In general the 
strata follow no regular direction ; and this, in 
addition to the confusedly-piled, and distorted, and 
rugged appearance of the crags and rocks, which 
are massed one above another in the most fantastic 
manner, favours the supposition that their origin 
was decidedly volcanic. Of this, indeed, there seems 
but little doubt. 

In descending from the mountain, the town of 
Collares, lying at some distance to the north-west, 
is discerned ; this town gives its name to the wine so 
well-known in Portugal, called, like it, " Collares." 
A late Portuguese writer describes it thus enthusiasti- 
cally (the town, not the wine) : — " At about a league 
to the west of the town of Cintra, and at a distance 
of six leagues north-west from the city of Lisbon, 
above a fertile and verdurous vale, known by the 
appellation of the Varsea, is situated the ever-smiling 
town of Collares, which for the flow of its fairy 
fountains, the melody of its delightful birds, the 
delicious temperature of its air — which in the most 
oppressive heats of summer never fails to be fresh 
and exquisitely cool, like the atmosphere of tender 
spring, — the delicacy of its rich fruits, and the 



A FLOWERY VALE. 



137 



purity of its pellucid water, deserves to be called a 
very paradise upon earth." 

These extravagant commendations are, without 
doubt, overstrained and exaggerated ; but still the 
lovely valley of Collares, covered with orchards and 
smiling orange-groves, presents a truly pleasing pro- 
spect, and contrasts itself exquisitely with the arid 
and naked mountains, along whose base it so enchant- 
ingly spreads. As to the straggling town, poor 
and inconsiderable, it has little of interest. Some 
Roman inscriptions have been discovered near it, 
most of which are transcribed in the volume from 
which the description I have quoted was taken — 
a work written by the Viscount de Jurumenha. 
Around Collares the vineyards are small, and so cut 
up into petty portions by stone walls, that the 
country presents slightly the appearance of a chess- 
board. 

But there are other things more lovely in 
the neighbourhood of Collares ; there grows the 
arbutus, gigantically high ; there flourish the wild 
olive, the colossal stone-pine, the chestnut, the plane, 
and the tulip. There the cork-tree is twisting itself 
into ten thousand gracefully grotesque shapes, with 
misletoe depending in profusion from its branches, 
increasing the wildness of its appearance, The oak, 
too, is found here in its kingly grandeur, odor- 
iferous jessamines abound in their fairy and starry 
beauty, while feathery fern adds its aerial lightness 
to the charm of the varied vegetation, and nume- 
rous parasitic plants climb about the trees, biding 
the foliage and the branches often with their exu- 
berance. Water-melons, wild strawberries, Indian 
corn, rosemary, rhododendrons, geraniums, orange- 
trees, lemon-trees, and many other delightful pro- 



138 



A DANGEROUS PRECIPICE. 



ductions of Nature, all are beautifully confounded 
together in the fine season. 

At the extremity of this " happy valley," — such, 
methinks, it must have been to the Viscount de 
Jurumenha — the crystal streamlets that flow gleam- 
ing and babbling through it, unite their sparkling 
waters, thus forming a kind of lake, on whose 
tranquil bosom of beauty a pleasure-boat is to be 
found, for the gratification of those rurally-disposed 
parties who come from Cintra and Lisbon to dis- 
port themselves amid these fragrant haunts. From 
hence a murmuring rivulet, like a silver thread, 
winds along its graceful way to the great ocean. 

This is said to have been once a navigable river ; 
and it is further stated, that in these flourishing 
times of its prosperity the fruit-trees, like other 
officious sycophants, ever, — bent and showered 
down their gifts on its waters as they assiduously 
overhung its verdant banks ; these were rapidly 
carried down the current, and as it arrived at the 
beach, with its never-buttoned pearly pockets 
crammed with ripe apples, — like a schoolboy of a 
stream, it gave the name to that beach which it 
still bears, " Praia das Macas " (Beach of the 
Apples). 

There is a lofty headland about three-quarters 
of a league from Collares, rising almost perpen- 
dicularly to the height of two hundred feet, if not 
more, above the roaring Atlantic; it is known by 
the denomination of " Pedra d'Alvidrar at par- 
ticular points the billows of the mighty ocean rush 
foaming against its base, and are believed to have 
w r orn and undermined it to a considerable, and per- 
haps dangerous, extent. This may be ascertained by 
looking through a singular circular chasm, or aper- 



A DANGEROUS FEAT. 139 



ture (situated at some distance from the brink of this 
fearful precipice), at the bottom of which the restless 
sea is to be seen chafing and fretting like a haughty 
steed against its rider. Altogether, beheld from 
above, the scene appears sufficiently threatening to 
appal a spirit not easily daunted. But the male part 
of the population of a somewhat insignificant village 
in the neighbourhood perform here a curious feat, 
and seem quite at home on the perilous precipice, 
if not on the most familiar terms with the hoary 
Atlantic himself, when, entirely without any aid or 
support but their own hands and feet, they descend 
the rock, despite its perpendicularity, from the crest 
of the precipice to the edge of the roaring waters, 
and ascend again in the same way : the slightest 
slip, or the accidental giving way of a portion of the 
rock, must unavoidably send them headlong into the 
thundering deep below, whose waves seem howling 
and leaping for their prey, — yet they shrink not. 

What makes the feat more remarkable is, that 
the rock is mainly composed of smooth blocks of 
stone. Accidents, however, have rarely occurred, 
which would lead one to suppose the undertaking 
cannot be so desperate a venture as it appears, nor, 
one should think, attended with a great amount of 
skill, as there is scarcely an inhabitant of the neigh- 
bouring village that does not successfully accomplish 
the task. 

These poor people consider themselves ade- 
quately remunerated for this exploit with a few 
" vintems." 

Fishermen will occasionally ascend this fearful- 
looking steep, bearing the encumbrance of a 
basketful of fish, solely for their own conveni- 
ence, to save them a more roundabout journey. 



140 



DEPARTED GRANDEUR. 



Visitors may return to Cintra from Collares a 
different way from which they came, and if they 
choose the road that passes along the side of the 
mountain, besides seeing many quintas with charm- 
ing gardens and grounds, they wall have an oppor- 
tunity of visiting Monserrat, which is the celebrated 
villa, once beautiful and splendid, that Mr. Beckford 
built: this quinta had the honour of receiving a 
visit from Lord Byron in the year 1809. 

The dilapidated remains of the chateau are to be 
seen at the extremity of an avenue, over the point 
of a gently-rising eminence. Once upon a time it 
boasted a noble entrance, ample libraries, richly-fur- 
nished saloons, octagonal halls, fairy boudoirs, and 
circular rooms, lavishly-decorated, and commanding 
fine prospects — even to the far-off billows of the 
ocean. Now 7 , all there is desolation and gloom, 
which ever seem the more mournful, where anciently 
the charm of luxury and splendour existed. 

Upon the soft declivity of the hill, just beneath 
the ruins, an artificial waterfall was formed at a vast 
expense. Near this there are, or were, other ruins, 
which might be interesting to the curious in murders; 
for I believe some horrible story belongs to them 
of a fratricide, committed under circumstances that 
aggravated the awful crime. 

After returning to the great road, the traveller 
will reach, ere long, the quinta and grounds of Penha 
V erde, that were once the property of the renowned 
Dom John de Castro, and that still belong to his de- 
scendants. The hero chose this pleasant spot for his 
retreat, after his enterprising and glorious career in 
two quarters of the world. Here his heart is buried. 
The acknowledgment for his great services that 
he solicited from his king, after the famed siege of 



BURIAL-PLACE OF DOM JOHN DE CASTRO. 141 

Diu, was, that a rock, upon which half-a-dozen 
trees stood, should be added to the grounds of his 
favourite quinta. This rock is still called " Monte 
das Alvicaras." He built a chapel here in honour of 
the blessed Virgin Mary : some emblematically- 
carved stones were placed at the bottom of the 
flight of steps leading to it; these stones he had 
brought with him from Eastern lands. A long 
inscription in Sanscrit, in honour of the god Siva, 
was traced on these blocks. The chapel is built on 
a terrace. There is an inscription over the door ; 
another on a little pillar over the portico ; and on 
each side of the door there are also inscriptions : on 
the right side — 

" Solutis votis, 
Salvos redire, 
Salvos redire." 

And on the left side — 

" Salvos ire 
Susceptis votis 
Salvos ire. 
1543." 

The celebrated hero bequeathed this possession 
to his descendants, on the condition of their not 
attempting to derive any pecuniary benefit from its 
cultivation. Religious signs and symbols meet the 
eye at every turn, and we feel the brave warrior 
must have been a pious man ; though, of course, 
the manifestations of that spirit of piety accorded 
strictly with the religion he professed. But let us 
honour that spirit wherever we find it. 

After leaving Penha Verde and its ancient cork- 
trees — contemporaries of the great captain, probably, 
for their age may be the same as that of the vene- 



142 



CURIOUS ANCIENT CUSTOM. 



rable quinta itself— the tourist comes to a building 
belonging to the Duke of Terceira, rendered famous 
by having been the place where the celebrated Con- 
vention between Junot and Sir H. Dalrymple was 
planned. 

I must beg the reader once more to accompany me 
to Cintra, to its magic rock, its murmuring foun- 
tains, its shadowy chestnut-groves, and delightful 
paths. We remained for some time admiring the 
convent-castle, particularly one beauteous tower, 
where there is a window that is quite exquisite, set 
in a bower of the most luxuriant roses and leaves 
and vines — of stone ; so fantastically and elaborately 
carved and wrought, that Nature almost seemed 
to be rivalled, especially in the soft twilight, that 
was then creeping gradually over every object. 
The sculptured leaves appeared veined with cun- 
ning tracery ; the buds ready to expand: the inter- 
twining shoots and stems must surely be full of sap ! 
Not far there is a richly- wrought archway, " carved 
so as to represent a grotto of stalactites and delicate 
shells."* It is, indeed, an enchanted spot. 

As we were coming down the hill by the last 
gleam of a faint fading twilight, we met people 
going up to enjoy the view by moonlight. Among 
others came an English lady, riding a gay steed, and 
evidently despising the donkeys, — so greatly in 
fashion here. In the days of the Infanta Regent, 
the chroniclers of that time inform us, it was the 
custom for herself and her august sisters to ride 
these lowly animals in full and glittering regimentals, 
with stars and orders, feathers and ribbons, and all 
the brilliant accompaniments of a splendid uniform : 



* Journal by V. S. W. 



BATALHA. 



143 



this, however, I fancy, was only the case, on parti- 
cular festival clays. But why this was the etiquette, 
I know not : they could hardly, one w r ould think, 
have reviewed the troops mounted on patient, but 
ofttimes noisy Neddy. 

From the hotel where we were staying, we had 
a lovely view of Cintra by moonlight ; its houses, 
shining as they do in their brilliant whiteness, looked 
almost like foam -covered breakers, climbing up the 
opposing steep, but clambering boisterously over each 
other's heads in a way the worst-conducted billows 
seldom do, as one commonly retires with great cour- 
tesy for the other to take its place. Then how dark 
and frowning, how gloomy and mysterious in some 
places, looked the overhanging rock! — how heedless 
and contemptuous of these stone breakers and 
surges ! How luxuriant w 7 ere the orange groves 
and the gardens ! Then there was the clear, deep 
blue, cloudless sky overhead, and the transparent 
atmosphere, to complete the picture ! 

It is worth while putting one's self in one of the 
steamers of the Peninsular and Oriental Company 
(the most obliging and liberal Company in the world) 
and coming over to Portugal on purpose to see this 
fair sight. Many other fair and deeply-interesting 
sights are to be seen in this country. Por ex- 
ample, the far-famed monastery of Batalha, founded 
by Dom John I., who, on the morning of the battle 
of Aljubarrota, registered a vow that, if successful, 
he would raise a sumptuous edifice to the Holy 
Virgin. The arms of Spain were defeated, and in 
the course of a few years the noble walls of Batalha 
were seen to rear themselves on high. Some say 
that the architect was an Englishman, one Stephen 
Stephenson ; others, that the oldest portions were 



144 



PORTUGUESE ARCHITECTURE. 



built by the Freemasons : the truth is, the name 
and nation of the architect are unknown. 

I regret to say, circumstances prevented my 
going to see Batalha ; but, by all accounts, it must 
be well worthy of a visit. It is described as a rich 
and beautiful wilderness of fine arches, columns, 
arcades, pinnacles, monuments, portals, shrines, and 
mausoleums ; and a vast treasure-house of the 
most marvellously-delicate and highly-finished ara- 
besques, representations of fruit and flowers, sculp- 
tures, stained glass, heraldic emblems, pranked with 
gold and gems, — architectural ornaments, figures, 
bassi-relievi, traceries, seemingly done by fairies, and 
matchless mouldings and carvings of all kinds. King 
John and his English queen were buried here. The 
royal arms of Portugal are to be seen emblazoned 
over them, with the order and insignia of the Garter 
of Old England displayed beside them, while in 
basso-relievo appears hard by the chosen motto of 
John I.: — "II me plait pour Men" (the magpie 
motto already alluded to). The queen's dress is 
described as curious, being ornamented with en- 
graven arabesques, which appear to have been once 
gilt and coloured. Prince Henry (sivrnamed " the 
Navigator") reposes here; on the zocle beneath 
his imaged form his noble old motto appears, 
" Talant de Men fere" — The best of talents, as- 
suredly ! 

Batalha is reckoned a triumph of architecture, and 
architecture only, none of the sister arts materially 
contributing to its enrichment and embellishment. 
At the entrance of the mausoleum of King Emmanuel 
there is a much- admired stone figure of one of the 
Fathers of the Church. Although not more than a 
dozen inches in height, the artist has contrived most 



TOMB OF DOM PEDRO AND INEZ DE CASTRO. 145 

exquisitely to express the threadbare state of the 
worn-out and frayed tunic. 

The Portuguese are accounted to be almost 
unapproachable for their proficiency in carving 
stone, and their skill in this branch of art shines 
forth conspicuously in their structures, ancient and 
modern. Belem and the " Pena " Convent at Cintra 
are instanced as fair proofs of this assertion. 

To the present king consort, who is known to 
be a most judicious and most munificent patron of 
the arts, are owing some repairs that were ren- 
dered very necessary in this noble structure, and 
which have been executed at no slight expense. 
The Chapter-house at Batalha, with its bold and 
extraordinary ceiling, is reckoned a master-piece of 
architectural skill. Three architects in succession 
laboured vainly to secure this ceiling without the 
defect of a centre support ; but it stands a monument 
to the successful perseverance, triumphant ingenuity, 
and brilliant skill, of the fourth. The chief ribs 
of the vault spring from delicate slight shafts, they 
then branch out in different directions as they ap- 
proach the centre, and there all the radiating nerves 
in the semblance of a star are seen encircling a 
patera, highly ornamented. 

There is another most interesting monastery in 
Portugal that I had not the good fortune to see, 
but which, from what I have heard of it, I should 
strenuously recommend any traveller, who has leisure 
and opportunities, to visit. I mean the church and 
monastery of Alcobaca, where repose in the sleep 
of death Dom Pedro the Cruel and the lovely and 
famous Inez de Castro. The romantic and mournful 
history of that enchanting being, so adored by the 
stern and fierce Pedro, is too well known for me to 

L 



146 MUTILATION OF THE STATUE OF INEZ. 

dilate upon here. At the foot of Inez's tomb is 
that of Pedro's. The sarcophagi are of pure white 
marble, covered with exquisite tracery and alto-re- 
lievos. The recumbent figures representing the ill- 
fated pair are larger than life. 

When the French were in Portugal they little 
respected this monastery, with all its historical 
associations ; they tore Dom Pedro from his tomb, 
and poor Inez was also doomed to be once more 
snatched from the peace and calm of the sheltering 
sepulchre, but not this time to be seated with all 
the gorgeous ceremonial of regal state upon a 
jewelled throne, with the crown blazing about her 
ashen brow, and the queenly mantle clasped above 
her pulseless heart and death-chilled bosom, — and 
so to receive the chivalrous homage of a thousand 
peers ! 

Now it was to be submitted to the unhal- 
lowed gaze of a brutal soldiery, to be desecrated 
by the touch of blood-stained hands, and made a 
mock of by the dissolute and lawless enemies of her 
country (who could not even leave the dead in 
peace), that she was dragged from the grave. The 
beauty of Inez was found then to have survived 
the march of so many long years, and her deep 
golden hair recalled the time when she shone in her 
matchless loveliness, so adorned by Nature's richest 
gifts, that she required nought from the vain assist- 
ance of Art. 

At the time of the unhappy Inez's second 
revisitation of the glimpses of the moon, some dis- 
courteous Frenchman — perhaps, however, accident- 
ally — knocked off her nose, — at least that of her 
stone effigy ; therefore, no longer can any beauty be 
detected there. The other features were also on the 



dom pedro's excessive cruelty. 147 

same occasion mutilated and disfigured. It is the 
more to be regretted, since, as the figure was 
executed under the immediate superintendence of 
Dom Pedro himself, it was doubtless a faithful like- 
ness of his beloved Inez, in the winning, enthralling 
bloom of her charms. But there is, indeed, an end 
of all that fascination now. Vainly must the most 
exquisite rosebud of a mouth smile under — no 
nose ; vainly the loveliest of eyes display their fine 
shape and bewitching orbs on either side of — 
nothing. Useless seem those delicately-pencilled 
arches of eyebrows, — where there is no bridge ; and 
the most lustrous, falling ringlets, " like dropping- 
wells of gold," cease to please when they are in 
danger of dropping into that very ugly cavity. The 
smooth, polished temples, themselves look insecure 
near such a ruin. As to the little ears, they seem 
like two pretty cowards in a forlorn hope, running 
away from the " deadly imminent breach." The 
dimpled hole in the chin, too, seems a mere hollow 
mockery, when there is a corresponding hole above 
— of more portentous proportions. 

The stern figure of Dom Pedro, I hear, has not 
suffered like that of his idolised consort. At his feet 
is crouched a dog (apparently one of a similar breed 
to that called King Charles's), part of whose head 
or ears has shared the dismal destiny of poor Inez's 
nose. There are other tombs in that mortuary 
chapel, but all the interest, of course, is centered in 
that of the ill-starred royal lovers. 

I confess I never could feel very much pity for 
Dom Pedro, he so richly deserved the epithet 
" Cruel ;" and how horrible was the vengeance he 
wreaked on the vile tools, — the mere instruments 
of his father's hate and barbarity, the wretches who 



148 dom pedro's excessive cruelty. 

carried into execution the orders of their king ! 
Two of these fell into his hands, and what did he do ? 
Not simply put them to death, but he had the heart 
of one cut out through the back, that of the other 
through the breast, and then this monster sat and 
dined by the light of the flames, while their mutilated 
bodies were being burned at the funereal pile. The 
gentle Inez herself engages all one's sympathy and 
interest. 



MIDNIGHT DISTURBANCE. 149 



CHAPTER VII. 

One night, at Lisbon, some time after most of the 
people in the hotel had retired to rest, an ex- 
ceedingly violent and continued knocking was heard 
at the outer gate, which was secured and fastened 
for the night. Voices were heard loud in expos- 
tulation or in alarm. I was not a little terrified, 
for I thought the cause of this uproar was very 
likely fire, and, in short, that these thundering 
knocks and loud yells were to give the alarm. 

At length the persons without shook the unfortu- 
nate gate so vehemently and furiously that I almost 
expected it would yield to the assaults of its 
eager assailants. I called my maid, asked her if 
she smelt fire, saw smoke, observed any particular 
heat, heard any crackling noise? — No! But for 
the last, who could hear anything but that terrible 
rattling and shaking of the gate, that continued un- 
interruptedly ? One of the English maids thought 
it was certainly the real original Lisbon earthquake 
come again, and got ready to be swallowed up, 
putting on a second-best gown and shawl, that she 
considered quite good enough for earthquake cloth- 
ing. Much did she, doubtless, wish she had brought 
with her to this unsteady capital a box of the 



150 



THE BRAGANZA HOTEL. 



mountebank's pills, which were described as being 
" remarkably efficacious against earth quakes." She 
did not go the lengths of climbing the chimney, 
like the strolling player, who, imagining the houses 
went down here and there, in various places, gra- 
dually, when the earth opened, — like ghosts and 
magicians disappearing from the stage, — thought 
that, when the house got as far underground as 
the roof, he should pop out of the chimney-pot, 
step gingerly on terra firma, and be safe, before 
the earthy trap-door closed. We bethought us 
seriously of making inquiries, but soon after, just as 
we were going to sally forth to ascertain what was 
the matter, or give the alarm, steps and voices were 
heard in the passage. The dogs and the echoes had 
long been awake, and now the people were roused. 
My maid was on the alert (not the one who had 
dressed herself ready for a disaster in catastrophe- 
clothes, but another one), and was about to run 
out to inquire ; but pausing a moment, we heard 
the passage window opened slowly, and a request 
shortly proceeded from some person, whose head 
was projected from it, in bad English, to the effect, 
that these disturbers of the public and private peace 
of the Braganza Hotel would withdraw themselves 
without delay. A cessation of the furious bumps 
and thumps here took place ; the gate-quakes were 
hushed for the moment, and a voice was heard 
pleading hunger, but especially thirst, and crying 
loudly through the hollow night, — " Where on airth 
is German John ? We want supper ! supper ! We 
want those special brandy-slings and sherry-cob- 
blers, and all the rest, and he can make them. Bid 
him come, in half no time. Commen see here, 
ganz snail (schnett), German John." (Then ensued 



DISTURBANCE EXPLAINED. 



151 



a curious mixture of Portuguese-English, from se- 
veral voices, thus :) 

" Morro do seedy, damme de beber, — makee 
hastee, 0 diabo te leve, Filho do minha alma ; vai-te 
e?iforcdr, men Coragdo." * 

" Here ! Pego-l/ie muito encarecidamente faga- 
me o favor, minha vida, maroto ! velhaco ! tonto ! 
mono! embusteiro ! asneirao ! animal!" . . . f 

A sleepy voice broke in here angrily, half 
snoring, half-snarling, — 

"Go your long ways; git gone: me no under- 
stand. ' ' 

" Why ! John ? — No understand ! Luk ye 
here, now ! Here's a precious chap, that has two 
native languages and can't understand ne'er a one 
on 'em, when they's translated for him, and made 
into one tew ! — Aye ! and a new mother-tongue, 
got up right away, and made easy and genuine for 
him besides. Here, I tell ye, justee givee usprafos, 
facas, garrafas, garfos, copos, old hoss ! and gin- 
slingos, and hailstorminos, and rum-todditos, and 
shandy- gafFarafFas, sherry -cobblereerers, and mint- 
juleppas — come, makee some juleppas — there's 
Portuguese for you ! — John was a capital julep- 
maker." 

t£ Shoe-lippers ! — shoelipmaker ! — it's not no Por- 
tuguese, and we don't have here not von dose shoe- 
makers nor cobblers." 

" More shame for you ! But look sharp — go 
a-head!" 

* The deuce take thee, son of my soul ; go and be 
hanged, ray darling. 

f I entreat you, do me the favour, my life ! you rogue, 
knave, giddy-brains, ape, cheat, ass, beast. 



152 REMONSTRANCE WITH THE ENEMY. 



" I can't get no head to-night, nor nothing ; 

you waitee just till next yesterday." 

" Pooh, man ! Alguma cousa para almocar" * 
" Ouve ; deiwa-me I Nao me facas a cabega 

tonta." f 

" Do you mean to keep us waiting here from 
July till next doomsday ?" 

" You wantee your breakfast last night before 
to-morrow come yesterday ; go and sleep in de 
water upon your ships dere, and get plenty wine 
next day dat never comes! No use waiting here; 
the Senhor and Senhora, and all de folks and bodies, 
gone to bed early in de morning of last night, to- 
day. And lookee here you, if dey wakes before 
dey goes to sleep, I tink dey be very sorry with 
you, dat's all; and dat's good English-fool language, 
I b'lieve." 

" Hallo ! you parley -voo, where's German John, 
I say ? He can ladle it out better than that." 

" He ain't nowhere yet : — I tink he's on de ship 
a-going somewhere: " [very rapidly) " he gone away, 
to go straight round by anoder sea dat's in Eng- 
land, through 'Merikay, to France what's in Ger- 
many, next to Afriky, where Paris goes toder side 
of Spain, down dere by Gibraltar streets, — I 'spose 
at London ; so he ain't almost nowhere yet, till 
he gets dere; and you can't get no noting till 
next afternoon of dis night, and no nobody to 
make no shoemakers and everyting, anywhere, 
nohows now, and all de souls and bodies sleeps 
in bed nowhere, and I cannot get-a you some 

* Something for breakfast. 

f Harkee — let me be quiet — don't make me giddy. 



PEACE RESTORED. 



153 



breakfast for supper till to-morrow day comes in de 
next morning, for de keys of de food and drinks 
has got de peoples all in bed, and so ven dey 
get up you sail have dem for breakfast; and so 
you better go underground, dere below de town to 
your ships last night ! " 

" Why, you darned Portuguese nigger ! do you 
mean us to go off without even a French break- 
fast — a kickshaw of half a frog's liver, and a bill 
of the opera? We're dropping down like dead 
puppies with thirst. Vem cd! Ndo vd tdo de- 
pressa. Here's an invoice of precious souls a-going 
to glory ! Won't any good Christian give but a cup 
of cold brandy — or hot — we're not particular — and 
half a loaf — of sugar? and " 

" Get away ; be good gentlemans now, English - 
fools, Senhores, pray ! " 

This last strange address was delivered in the 
most soothing and utterly urbane manner by 
Manoel, but produced no effect, save a roar of 
laughter. Slam-to went the window. The Por- 
tuguese waiter's patience, at last, was quite ex- 
hausted, also his vocabulary of choice English ; and 
after a lengthened knocking and calling again at the 
gate, the untimely visitors evaporated, whether to 
" sleep in de water," slake their thirst, break their 
fast, take to their cigars, or shake more gates, 
wake more slumberers, and distract more waiters, 
I know not. Away they reeled, hardly able to 
balance their hats, which leaned fearfully to one 
side of their heads, evidently already under a pres- 
sure of four rum- toddies to the square inch. They 
belonged, of course, to some American vessel in 
port. 

A word of explanation may be required with 



154 



ENGLISH MANNERS IN PORTUGAL. 



regard to the expression " English -fools/' which 
had been very unceremoniously addressed by the 
Portuguese to the Americans, who pleaded so hard 
for something drinkable, and so obstreperously call- 
ed on John the German waiter. Having too often, 
I fear, heard our countrymen thus designated, this 
man evidently thought that it was actually the pro- 
per way of describing them, (foreigners of that class 
frequently confound the two nations— the English 
and their transatlantic cousins,) indeed I heard 
afterwards he invariably called " the Britishers " 
in one compound word, "English-fools!" — and I 
am afraid there was but too much cause for this un- 
complimentary addition to the usual term. Whe- 
ther the Americans, as in the solitary instance I 
have thus described, assist in awakening the feelings 
that have led to such an uncivil denomination, by 
breaking through any established usages, or an- 
noying the citizens by conduct they think unbe- 
coming and absurd, I know not ; but this I do 
know, that my own countrymen are too often to 
blame, here and elsewhere, by infringing recognised 
rules, and setting at nought certain convenances, 
which, however insignificant they may seem to them, 
are considered as the test and touchstone, perhaps, 
of good manners by the inhabitants of the country 
they are in. 

To the natives, these little conventionalities and 
forms, that have become indispensable in good 
society, or, perhaps, in any society, may naturally 
appear of far more consequence than to us ; and 
not to adopt them seems a deliberate insult to 
them. That we should think them utterly insigni- 
ficant, is only an additional offence. 

It is difficult to imagine the pleasure of shocking 



EXCESSIVE RUDENESS IN AN ENGLISHMAN. 155 

the notions of propriety, or innocent prejudices, as 
they may be, possibly, in some cases, of any people 
we may be even temporarily associated with ; but 
certainly it would appear that it does give plea- 
sure to some peculiarly constituted minds. One 
English gentleman, while we were staying at Lisbon, 
had given umbrage to many loyal Portuguese — 
who had seen his strange conduct — by treating his 
majesty himself with marked rudeness, knowing 
perfectly well who Dom Fernando was ; and I 
heard some of these remark, pathetically, how very 
undeserved and unpardonable was such conduct, 
for that the king himself is always most scrupu- 
lously civil and courteous to every one, whether 
native or foreign. This gentleman, however, marched 
up to Dom Fernando, placed himself just in his 
path, as if he were about to present a petition or 
a pistol to his majesty, and hardly, when the king 
approached close, vouchsafed to stand a little aside 
and let him pass without turning out of his path. 
Kings have been sorrily used in some countries 
of Europe, but it is not quite the fashion yet to 
push them into the gutter in their own capitals, 
in civilised regions. The English traveller, how- 
ever, thus, at length, condescendingly deigned to 
move a few inches out of the path, after having 
stared well at the king full in the face. The latter 
appeared somewhat amused at the singular manners 
of the bold Briton, and passed on his way with a 
slight but very expressive smile. 

Some of the Portuguese who were witnesses of 
this curious proceeding, loyally declared they could 
hardly refrain from sticking a knife into the offending 
Englishman ; which would have been a sharp mode 
of administering a hint on manners, certainly. 



156 



GERMAN JOHN. 



The presentation of a copy of Lord Chesterfield's 
" Letters " to his degenerate countryman might 
have been better, and would have had this advan- 
tage, — the pupil could have learned his lesson, and 
done credit to his master or teacher ; " but if you 
kill him," as Moshesh the Kaffir observed truthfully 
in his "palaver" with the English governor, "he 
can't do no talking nor learning either." 

It is a mistake that the English make when they 
think they exhibit a free and independent spirit by 
these outrages on national custome and habits. 
What is the result ? What effect would it have in 
Lisbon, for instance, where much courtesy prevails 
among all ranks ? Why this : that the " Illus- 
trissimo" the retired pork-butcher in the next 
street, pities or scorns the uncouth Englishman who 
has never been taught, apparently, the common 
decencies of civilised life, which he, the more for- 
tunate, the "Illustrissimo Senhor," the retired pork- 
butcher, has had the advantage to be instructed in. 

Before " German John," who had gone, accord- 
ing to the preceding luminous statement, " to the sea 
dat's in England," had quitted Lisbon, he one day 
gave us a most animated account of a royal bull- fight 
he had just witnessed. It was amusing to observe 
how Peninsular gesticulations had gradually become 
engrafted on German stolidity and sobriety of de- 
meanour. Saerkraut and garlic seemed to mingle 
and meet ; but a certain German-pudding expression 
appeared at variance throughout his animated antics 
with the rapidity of those gymnastical hieroglyphics 
and pantomimical posturings. 

Yet, if anything, John exaggerated the usual 
extravagance of Lusitanian gesticulations ; indeed, 
he outpostured Grimaldi with the gravity of feature 



PORTUGUESE SUPERSTITION. 



157 



of a Solon. Socrates pirouetting on tiptoe, or 
Diogenes jumping through a garland of flowers, in 
the manner of Ducrow's equestrian troupe, could 
not have appeared more absurd. " Certain, dey do 
get tossed up a bit, so and so, and so and so ; " 
and he laboriously acted the tossing of the unlucky 
negroes, with an abstracted expression of counte- 
nance that would lead one to infer that the poor 
blacks, while careering about in the air, as they 
cannot follow the riddling recommendation — namely, 
choose absence of body in preference " to presence 
of mind," (when such slight accidents are unfor- 
tunately taking place,) substitute, as a faint solace, 
absence of mind, to counteract the disagreeables of 
presence of body. 

He plunged and darted about in imitation of an 
animated projectile with a preter naturally philo- 
sophical placidity ; you would have thought flying 
in the air from the tips of a bull's horns must be 
as pleasant as " a coach and six or a bed of down ; " 
and nothing could be more composed and dignified 
than the way in which, without taking breath, 
when landed on the terra firma of the floor, he 
began handing plates and dishes with a methodical 
imperturbability ; his phlegmatic German half then 
again preponderating, as his more mercurial Por- 
tuguese moiety had, on the whole, prevailed a little 
time before. John w r as an excellent waiter, and 
accounted the prop and pillar of the Braganza Hotel, 
(when he did not take these giddy flights, however, 
probably). 

Superstition has many votaries still in the ca- 
pital of Portugal. A grand procession took place 
a little while ago, to convey a fine gold leg to 



158 PORTUGUESE SUPERSTITIONS. 



the particular shrine of a certain saint, which 
saint had cured a lady residing here, who had 
sustained some injury to one of her " limbs," and 
who possessed great wealth. The saint had ac- 
complished this feat without the intervention of 
that gentleman who undertakes in England to cure 
" bad legs of forty years' standing." (No wonder 
they are the worse for their owners eschewing, 
during so pertinaciously protracted a period, the 
conveniences of a sitting position.) If the saint 
attended to her solicitations, the lady had vowed 
she would present a golden leg at his shrine. As 
this unknown personage had recovered, she faith- 
fully discharged at the period of her convalescence 
the promise she made during her sufferings ; and 
the leg, — which could not walk itself, — was with 
great pomp conveyed to its destination. 

At the time of the Peninsular war, Portuguese 
superstitions seem to have been at their height, and 
as one of the authors of that day (Semple, I think) 
remarked, if the French could have been beaten with 
wax- tapers and old bones and rags, there would have 
been little hope for them. Processions and cere- 
monies, and placings and displacings of noses, and 
knuckle-bones of the canonized, took place per- 
petually then, and relics were indeed at a premium. 

Numerous pigeons have their dwelling-place on 
the roof of the Braganza Hotel. One day, as we 
were sitting in the drawing-room, we heard a ter- 
rible crash, and on going out to ascertain its cause, 
found a young imp of an odd-boy had been chasing 
one of the poor birds till it dashed itself through 
the window at the end of the principal passage, 
and fell stunned on the pavement below. The poor 



THE ENCHANTED MOORESS. 



159 



thing, I believe, recovered after this accident, but 
be had moulted in his transit through the glass in 
an incredible space of time ! 

I have spoken of superstition, and before I close 
this chapter I will describe some few wild Portu- 
guese popular superstitions, that have some grace 
and fancy to recommend them ; for example, that 
of the enchanted Mooress, the " Moira Encantada 
it is as follows : — Various ancient Moorish fortresses 
are supposed to be haunted by a mournful figure, 
habited in aerial garments of an Oriental and Sara- 
cenic fashion. This is the Enchanted Mooress, who 
paces around the mouldering walls of some time- 
worn, long- deserted ruin, watching the viewless 
treasure it is supposed lies concealed within its 
venerable decaying bosom. 

She seems not to abhor the infidel race who 
dispossessed her people of their dominion and their 
wealth ; a mild and unvarying softness dwells in her 
melancholy eyes ; an unutterable gentleness marks 
her aspect ; a sorrowful tenderness characterises 
her unearthly countenance. She harms no one, — 
terrifies no one ; the prattling child of six summers 
is hardly affrighted if he sees the sad, sweet, en- 
chanted Mooress, watching his gambols with her 
plaintive, tender eyes. 

It is at the opening dawn of day, when the soft 
light is just tinting the groves and glades with a 
pale rosy suffusion, that the fair phantom makes her 
appearance ; and again she shows the delicate 
dreamy outlines of her form when the beautiful 
softly-declining rays of the " westering sun " gild 
richly the broken but still turreted walls and di- 
lapidated towers, where once the banner of the 
Crescent streamed victorious. Like one wrapped in 



160 



THE ENCHANTED MOORESS. 



deep contemplation, she leans against some shat- 
tered fragments of a gateway, or some half-destroyed 
memorial pillar ; but her spirit-lips utter no sigh, 
no sound. 

But do the fair Portuguese maidens, indeed, 
believe the Moira is chained to the spot by the 
influence of buried gold or concealed treasure, — 
that over the coffer or the chest, heavy with mighty 
sums or invaluable jewels, she has watched for 
centuries, patient and unwearied? Surely no. 
They must believe that it is beside the grave of some 
beloved one she keeps her unfailing watch and 
ward, and passes the long hours, serene in her 
solemn and seldom-broken solitude; — those mourn- 
ful, lingering looks of chastened sweetness, are fixed 
but on the earth, where moulder the precious remains 
of some plighted love. 

This soft penance has been imposed upon the en- 
chanted one for some mysterious reason ; and there 
is solace in her sorrow, — while fondly she guards 
that honoured grave. No foul, unclean thing, dare 
ever hover near while her light footsteps flit over 
the dewy grass. Yes, this must be the treasure she 
watches, the precious secret that she keeps ! — and, 
therefore, she is an indefatigable watcher, and no 
sigh ever escapes her dreamy lips. She wishes not 
to fly ; all she cherishes is there. 

The Moira sees not the lonely ruin as it is now, 
half buried in the dust ; she sees it as it was once, 
rearing on high its noble cloud-capped head, and 
with a train of gallant knights issuing forth from it, 
fearless as young lions that follow roaring on the 
track of a flying prey • and he, her beloved, is among 
them, fairest of all, first of all, most fearless of all — 
Fate shall surely never sever them. Does not their 



HER COSTUME. 



161 



future in that dream still shine brightly ? There- 
fore it is her soft eyes have that tender and affec- 
tionate gentleness, that meek and maidenly sim- 
plicity. 

There are accounts, however, that make out these 
bewitched and bewitching Mooresses not to be so 
interesting — accounts that state, that not only are 
they the compulsory sentinels of hidden wealth, but 
that, forgetful of their race, their beloved ones of 
old, and the golden illusions of their by-past life, 
they meet with no chilling disdain the advances of 
those who may be disposed to court them, — who, 
unappalled by the supernatural character of the 
Moiras, may be anxious to win favour in their eyes, 
looking upon them only as very wealthy heiresses, 
and, consequently, as highly-eligible matches ; and 
as young ladies, too, who would not require any 
marriage-settlements : in fact, who would not need 
a " maravedi" of pin-money for themselves. No 
heavy milliners' bills w T ould be forthcoming ever 
there, — their floating gowns being made of cheap 
fog and mist, with perhaps a little twopenny-half- 
penny trimming of thistle-down, — and an over-skirt 
or two of gossamer, mayhap, and sometimes a thin 
silver-edged cloud for a lining, — a spider's-web for 
a mantilla, and a few gems of mountain-dew to 
adorn their brows ; — and then they eat nothing ! 
— and sip only, probably, that same mountain- 
dew ! — (not whisky, lecteur, mon ami.) It is 
said that, without going so far as to become the 
spouses of any admiring infidels, they occasionally 
surround an aspirant to their smiles with their 
gentle charms and spells, and do not omit to grant 
him pecuniary aid, and graciously add to the balance 
in his banker's hands. I am rather afraid, in order 

M 



162 



ASININE SUPERSTITIONS. 



to do this, they burglariously visit the old castle they 
ought to guard, and are guilty of ruin - breaking, 
and of rifling the hidden hoards there, if there be 
any. 

It is reckoned no crime for a good Catholic to 
pay his airy addresses to a Moira Encantada. 
The captivating shade and spectre is a universal fa- 
vourite, and the people in general — partly, perhaps, 
in gratitude for her reported acts of kindness to 
many of that Lusitanian race whose forefathers 
treated her progenitors so harshly, and partly in 
their fascinated admiration and love for the marvel- 
lous, especially when revealed under such gentle 
traits — seem to feel a real affection for the tender 
and melancholy Moira. 

A less lovely and interesting piece of superstition 
is that of the Lobishomens. The Portuguese pea- 
santry suppose, that if seven sons make their appear- 
ance successively in a family, the seventh is doomed 
by some inscrutable destiny to become a vassal to 
the evil powers, and is sentenced by them invariably, 
every Saturday evening, to be transformed into an ass. 
Doubtless, seventh sons as well as others may occa- 
sionally — or permanently — appear in this parti- 
cular character, and act their role to perfection, 
without the necessity of transformation, or the 
especial interference of the inhabitants of the lower 
regions to assist them ; but the superstition we are 
discussing makes no exceptions, and the trans- 
mogrification is effected bodily, and is supposed, 
moreover, to be a decided variation and change, 
and not the normal state. 

The unfortunate victim is hunted in the shape 
of that generally ill-used quadruped — the donkey 
aforesaid — by a pack of demoniacal hounds, and he 



THE LOBISHOMEN SUPERSTITION. 163 



is condemned to lead them an excellent run, en- 
dowed with supernatural speed and strength, over 
the moors, and heaths, and through the scattered 
hamlets, without a single check, till he is per- 
mitted to reappear in his biped form. This re- 
turn to humanity only takes place on the Sunday 
morning. 

The peasantry in several parts of the country 
are so deeply impressed with this singular and gro- 
tesque superstition, that should a rude hind happen 
to encounter early on a Sunday morning a foot-sore 
and exhausted wayfarer, plodding wearily along, 
breathless and half - crippled, — haunted and misled 
by his distempered and prejudiced fancy, he dreams 
that he detects certain signs which infallibly con- 
vince him that the poor wanderer has been hotly 
pursued by the spectral hounds before-mentioned, 
and afforded capital sport to a large field of witches 
well mounted on fast broomsticks, and tiny fami- 
liars reining in frisky four-year-old bats, and gob- 
lins riding swift-darting shadows, and ugly dwarfs 
(very light weights,) on greased flashes of lightning, 
(rather hard pullers,) with mocking elves on the 
backs of spirited will-o'-the-wisps, first-rate goers, 
and dashing young sports- devils, — town-bred, — 
gallantly carried by hired Phantasmagorias, and 
imps of darkness be-striding well-seasoned flying- 
dragons, and such fleet hunters. The chase altoge- 
ther might be worthy of Melton. Some of these 
gentlemen could certainly " show them the way " 
there ; but it appears there never is any " kill," 
which must be discouraging to the pack. Whether 
the Squire, — old Scratch — hunts his own hounds, 
does not appear. Of course the awe-stricken pea- 
sant passes to the other side of the road, feeling a 



164 



HOW TO CEASE TO BE AN ASS. 



natural horror of the wretched being who is subject 
to the sons of darkness. 

It is supposed that drawing blood from the 
miserably afflicted one, just at the precise time of 
the transformation, is attended by very beneficial 
results, and actually breaks the accursed spell : but 
it is stated, strange to say, that this has seldom been 
carried into effect ; and however extraordinary this 
may appear, at the actual moment of transformation, 
rarely have there been any passing spectators to ren- 
der this trifling favour ; and, indeed, say the simple- 
minded peasants, most men would run away when 
they saw the hideous change positively beginning, 
and a man turning into a donkey; and if they 
stayed it would require a great deal of presence 
of mind to deal the wound at the proper time, in 
the proper way. 

They might add, that as people are not alto- 
gether unaccustomed to see others act an asinine 
part on occasion, and are dimly aware, too, that they 
themselves thus now and then make asses of them- 
selves, it would be puzzling and dangerous in the 
extreme rashly to take upon themselves to decide 
how much of an ass a man must become before the 
extricating friendly blow is to be struck, winch pre- 
vents his completely assuming the likeness of the 
long-eared quadruped. An in discriminating appli- 
cation of this test in general society might un- 
questionably prove a little inconvenient, and be 
attended with particularly disagreeable results. I 
must say, too, that if the Bewitched One tamely 
permitted this assault and attack, he would prove 
himself very much more of an ass than ever, instead 
of becoming less of one. 

The Lobishomen superstition is, in a greater or 



THE BRUCHA SUPERSTITION. 



165 



less degree, with variations, spread over the whole 
Portuguese territory; its chief strongholds are, how- 
ever, the wastes and wilds of Alentejo. Another 
popular superstition, not, I believe, so widely dif- 
fused as that of the Lobishomens, is that of the 
Bruchas — weird women. In the less -cultivated 
districts, by lone moor or marsh, where the ignis 
fatuus and other strange phenomena may be seen 
at times, those terrible witches are said to meet 
together and hold conversaziones a la belle etoile; 
and it is reputed that a certain personage, whom 
we will call Mephistophiles, is invited constantly to 
form one at those small parties, where, indeed, his 
society is usually considered indispensable to make 
the evening pass off pleasantly. 

It often happens that the residences of these 
peculiar ladies are at a considerable distance from the 
spot selected for their rout or assembly, and as they 
do not in general sport any one - horse- an d-chay, 
and keep no conveyance, indeed, save brooms — (in 
sound like our own comfortable snug carriages, but 
lamentably different in sense as in spelling, and one 
that on a bleak night is a chill and exposed and 
cold-catching way of going to their reunions,)— 
they have had recourse to mysterious and abomi- 
nable means of transportation, — they smear them- 
selves over with a dreadfully -prepared kind of 
pomatum, in which the blood of small children is 
an indispensable ingredient ; and after this horrid 
duty of their toilet is completed, they utter the 
following spell : " Pot cima de vallado, por baixo de 
telhado" — (Over the eaves and beneath the roofs); 
and off they go as if by special train, and without 
any unpleasant risk and danger of deadly collision 
with other well-greased " Bruchas." 



166 ANECDOTE OF A BRTJCHA MARRIAGE. 

If a poor farmer or labourer unconsciously 
espouse one of these weird damsels, he may chance 
to see her leave her couch, (like the Ghoul in 
the Oriental fable, which very possibly this super- 
stition may have some connexion with), and after 
applying the mystic preparation, while he is be- 
lieved to be sound asleep and dreaming, he may hear 
her pronounce the magical words and, lo ! see her 
straight evaporate up the chimney. It is related of 
one that, determined to find out what his wife was 
going after — fatal curiosity! — he pomatumed him- 
self too, and then tried to repeat the mystic words 
his lady had gabbled over ; however, not doing so 
quite correctly, he was lifted from his feet, indeed, 
and borne through the window, or up the chimney, 
and over the roofs of some of the neighbouring 
houses : but the spell not being strong enough, 
it did not sustain him properly in the higher 
regions of air, so that every now and then, like a 
wretched aeronaut in a damaged balloon, he came 
bumping and dragging along the sharp corners 
of roofs, and dashing against peaked and pointed 
gables and chimneys, till he was discovered in 
the morning in a frightfully truncated state, and 
either dying or dead ; or perhaps was so utterly 
smashed and rubbed-out with this hard friction, 
pomatum and all, as to leave but a very insignificant 
" grease-spot " behind. 

If any man, on finding he has taken a Brucha 
to wife, does not contrive to procure a divorce 
a mensd et t/ioro, he must, I should think, be the 
seventh son in succession of some unfortunate Portu- 
guese family. (Perhaps, by the way, Mai thus was 
the original author of the Lobishomen superstition.) 
Mephistophiles attends these little soirees in the 



THE ESCOLAE.ES. 



167 



shape of a gigantic billy-goat, and after he has 
received all the salutations of the company, the 
witches, who are described generally as plain young 
women, become exceedingly pretty and captivating 
damsels. All is wild revelry for a short time. 

They then talk a little scandal, but not more than 
is usual at most conversazioni; form agreeable plans 
for the destruction of their neighbours and bosom- 
friends (there are parallel cases, too, in more culti- 
vated society), and after promising the Evil One 
(who manifests the greatest interest in these plea- 
sant projects and designs) that they will do their 
best or their worst to ruin all their acquaintances, 
body and soul, they separate ; but if an unlucky 
wanderer should chance to encounter one of these 
flybynight dames on her way back home, he is to 
be sincerely commiserated : they frighten him out 
of whatever senses he may happen to possess, by 
hideous laughter and unearthly yells and shrieks ; 
they display their false lights, to tempt the poor 
traveller out of his right road into all kinds of 
dangerous passes and bewildering paths, and then 
they suddenly leave him in utter solitude, complete 
darkness, and in a state bordering closely on frenzy. 

Besides these legends there are the tales of the 
fierce, fiendish, wolf-impellers {Escolar.es), who appear 
in mortal form, and who, choosing for their very un- 
comfortable seat the sharp point of some high pin- 
nacle, (where they must be, one should imagine, in as 
disagreeable a position, as a shy man on the outer 
edge of his chair,) by potent spells make the gaunt, 
hungry wolves, assemble at their bidding, and at- 
tack whomsoever and whatsoever they, the "im- 
pellers" aforesaid, may select as their prey. 

If any shepherd has awakened the wrath of 



168 



WIZARD WOLVES. 



one of these unsociable and misanthropical per- 
sonages, though the poor man may not have the 
slightest idea how the unwitting offence was com- 
mitted, down come the ravening wizard-impelled 
wolves upon his ill-fated fold ; all are devoured : the 
dowager ewes, — the " milky mothers of the flock," 
— -the lambs, hardly come out into general society, 
and smelling of sheepish curds and whey, — all, with- 
out the slightest respect for rank, sex, and age, are 
sacrificed by the demoniacally-driven, fiend-com- 
missioned troop, who, with glaring, fiery eyes, and 
gnashing jaws, rush down on the fear-stricken flock 
like a shower of thunderbolts. 

The faithful dog, who has encountered boldly 
many a single, simple wolf (or more, indeed, if 
mere unpossessed wolves), dares no longer defend 
his charge ; the moment he hears the supernatural 
sounds, and catches the supernatural gleam of 
those terrible torch-like eyes, he flies howling, 
filled with terror. If the human guardian of the 
field be armed with a gun or rifle, he fires it 
in vain at the charmed wolves ; the bullets glance 
off from the hide, and he only calls down further 
vengeance on his devoted head. He must not 
attempt to cope with the unseen enemy, or the 
merciless executors of his vindictive will ; he must 
fly, if he wishes to preserve his own life. He 
might either be killed at once, or, perhaps, carried 
up to that pleasant place, the sharp pinnacle; where 
he may be graciously invited to seat himself by the 
side of his tormentor, and await with him — who 
appears (strange to say) quite at his ease, perched 
on this high rocky point — the gathering of the next 
snow-storm below their feet : for it is when the daz- 
zling flakes of snow fall fast and thick, and invest 



THE NEGRO SUPERSTITION. 



169 



the earth with a spotless mantle, that the dreaded 
" escolar " is most empowered to exert his evil and 
tyrannical influence over the groaning children of 
men and the bleating sons of sheep. 

The last I will mention is the "negro" super- 
stition, which was very rife at the time of the civil 
war, and was used as a powerful instrument against 
the Constitutionalists, who were generally known by 
this abhorred term to the bigotted and ignorant 
peasantry. They were supposed to be sons of per- 
dition in human shape, who carefully abstained from 
" switching their tails," or allowing the least smell 
of brimstone to be perceptible about their disguised 
persons, — perhaps by continually smoking cigars and 
chewing tobacco and garlic (the last quite worthy of 
the said sons of perdition) ; and who had their 
cloven feet cfiausse'd cleverly in neat shoes, or 
top or other boots, and who managed, in short, 
skilfully enough, to deceive many persons who, from 
their education and intelligence, ought to have 
known better. 

When not looked upon actually as one of 
the demons themselves, a "negro" was supposed 
to hold the most familiar intercourse with the 
parent of all evil, and to enter with him into 
the most abominable and unpardonable compacts, 
against the great cause of Popery in general and 
against Dom Miguel in particular. Indistinct ideas 
respecting mystic clubs of Freemasons in active 
communication with the arch-fiend, the parent of 
wrong, — concerning various kinds of infernal inter- 
course, — prevailed with regard to this "Negro" 
delusion among the ignorant peasants of the less 
frequented districts. I am not, however, quite sure 
that the latter superstition did not originate in 



170 



DEPARTURE FROM LISBON. 



Spain, or, indeed, that it was not chiefly confined 
to that country; but very likely it was equally 
common to both. 

We left Lisbon in December for Madeira, on 
board one of the packets that run from Southampton 
to the Brazils, calling at Madeira among other 
places. 



PRIESTLY SUPPLICATIONS. 



171 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Bright was the morn and beautiful the scene when 
we bade farewell for a time to fair Lisbon. As we 
were steaming down the Tagus we observed an 
immense procession of priests, clad in rich gar- 
ments, and apparently attended by half the popu- 
lation of the metropolis, slowly wending their glit- 
tering way along, near the bank of the river. We 
were informed they were about to proceed to some 
particular church to pray for rain, for the drought 
had been so long continued, and was so excessive, 
that great fears were beginning to be entertained 
as to the results. 

Some of the Portuguese on board seemed 
to place much reliance on the efficacy of these 
priestly supplications ; and if they were to be 
believed, it would probably rain before that day 
or the next passed by. " Yes," muttered a har- 
dened sceptic, "because the good ecclesiastics always 
prudently take care to consult their weather-glasses 
scrupulously before they arrange these solemn pro- 
cessions, and when they think there is no doubt of 
a heavy shower, they come forth with all their pomp 
and splendour. Nay, it has sometimes happened, so 
weather-wise are they, that they have been obliged 
to hurry on their preparations a little, and put 
their grand procession almost in a trot, lest the rain 



172 



NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 



should come down before the proper time." The 
captain remarked, that there was a considerable 
appearance of a wet day; so it really looked as if the 
sarcastic unbeliever's statement was no invention. 

There were a good many passengers on board, 
many bound for South America, and a few for 
Madeira, like ourselves. Among the latter were 
some young English ladies, going to that fair island 
in search of health, with their brother. One of these 
ladies seemed in a most melancholy state of debility 
and prostration. 

How sad it is, that so many put off till too late 
visiting those sunny shores and breathing that 
balmy air; whereas if they earlier resorted to 
the salubrious island from our capricious and 
foggy clime, it would probably full soon reward 
their resolution by conducing to the complete re- 
establishment of their health. 

There were also a medical gentleman and his 
bride going there (they had only been married 
two months), — in the latter, some slight unpleasant 
symptoms of affected lungs had manifested them- 
selves, and they were most wisely at once going to 
check and eradicate the evil in its first stage; 
and a lady and her husband, who, I believe, had 
friends settled at Madeira, whom they were about 
to visit, &c. &c. To Rio Janeiro and other places in 
South America were bound a variety of passengers. 
Among these were a German baroness (also, I be- 
lieve, a " nouvelle mariee" and an acquaintance of 
the fair English bride) and her husband : he was 
was going to join the Emperor of the Brazils' army. 
Then there was a most mysterious lady. I was 
told first, I think, that she was a German duchess : it 
was not quite a matter of certainty whether she was 



AN UNHAPPY NEGRESS. 



173 



a sovereign and reigning duchess or not, but a very 
high and mighty German duchess it was averred she 
was, with a proper amount of names and titles — 
some, perhaps, slightly unpronounceable, which 
might be the reason she did not allow us the ad- 
vantage of becoming acquainted with them : but 
more of her highness anon. She awakened much 
curiosity on board. 

There was, in addition, a very interesting per- 
sonage, who excited my profound commiseration 
by the deep grief that she exhibited on leaving 
Lisbon. She was a black lady — jet black — 
with all the features of a thorough-going ne- 
gress ; but withal a gentle, amiable, and intel- 
ligent expression of countenance. I cannot paint 
the despair that overwhelmed her as we passed, but 
too rapidly for her, along the shining Tagus. As 
she recognised place after place, each and all 
evidently endeared to her by the tenderest re- 
collections and associations, fresh bursts of anguish 
literally convulsed her ; she wrung her hands, she 
pressed her sable forehead, and threw up her head in 
agony, as she cast fond farewell looks at every one of 
the beloved spots. Our maids were deeply touched 
with compassion ; they first drew my attention 
more closely to her, and told me she could only 
speak Portuguese, and that the ladies on board — I 
believe all were English or German — could not 
speak to her. They told me, too, they had been 
endeavouring to manifest as well as they could 
their sympathy with her profound distress; and, 
added one, " I almost think she speaks a little 
Trench, for she said something about 'Francais/ 
and seemed anxious to make us understand." 

On this I approached the sobbing dark one, who 



174 



THE STORY OP OTJRIKA. 



really appeared to wish to find some one who would 
speak a word of commiseration, or breathe a sigh 
in sympathy. She told me, in broken French, she 
had been at Lisbon ever since she was quite a 
child, having been adopted and brought from the 
Brazils by a lady residing there. " And now T — and 
now " and her thick-coming sobs almost suffo- 
cated the poor creature. I tried to say a soothing 
word or two. After a little time she continued speak- 
ing, telling me how dearly she loved Lisbon, how all 
her happiest days had been spent there, and, oh ! 
how happy she had been there ; " et il faut le 
quitter. Ah ! " And another burst of anguish shook 
the poor mourner, as if a tempest shot through her 
frame. 

After a pause I observed, " I supposed cir- 
cumstances compelled her to leave this charming 
place," — (I confess a little curiosity mingled with 
my very real sympathy and pity for her affliction.) 
"Ah, mais oui ! — Oh, Ciel ! oui !" with great em- 
phasis ; and again she sobbed violently. 

I felt there was a mystery: what? I could 
not help mentally reverting to the pretty tale of 
Ourika, wherein the heroine — a mulatto, I think 
— had been adopted and brought up by a wealthy 
lady, and carried to Paris from the "West Indies, 
care having been taken not to wound her feelings 
by any animadversions against persons of her co- 
lour; indeed, the colour question, as regarded 
cuticles, was never brought on the tapis at all, or if 
it was, it was only as one lady was said to wear 
rouge and another not, and so on. Ourika never 
thought about that matter — the colouring matter 
in her skin, at all ; and as the son of her adopted 
mamma was a most amiable and charming youth, 



ourika's love. 



175 



and much attached to her, who had been his 
playmate and companion from childhood, she 
had a strong penchant for him (I fear I may be 
making some great mistakes in the story, as it is a 
long time since I read it, but the main facts are, 
I believe, quite correct) ; in brief, he made a deep 
and uneffaceable impression upon poor Ourika's 
heart, which was of no particular colour; most 
likely, precisely the same hue as that of the most 
lily-skinned reader who bends her fair head over 
these pages. 

All apparently went on smoothly. The young 
gentleman, who had imbibed some strong preju- 
dices — for such do exist, after all, with more or 
less strength, in other places in the world besides 
the United States — never dreamed that a heart, 
which, without much physiological reflection on 
the subject, he set down as a heart of a decidedly 
snuffy -brown hue, could dare to reflect on its 
"muddy-leaved tablets" so fair-complexioned and 
delicate an image as that of himself ; consequently 
he suspected not the highly-presumptuous attach- 
ment of the poor mulatto girl. Thus affairs stood, 
when one day a conversation took place between 
him and a friend of his, who was less persuaded 
than himself, perhaps, that the chocolate-tint ran 
through the whole existence, body and soul, of those 
who wore the sun's tawny livery; (a very quiet one, 
for when it is not the full mourning suit of black, it 
consists of various shades of sober brown. Those 
who say, " Nature abhors brown," by the bye, for- 
get her poor mulattos — and shall we add, Southern 
brunettes of all nuances, whose cheeks " Phoe- 
bus " has pinched with "amorous clutch?") This 
friend was inclined to think that the graceful form, 



176 



ourika's fatal curiosity. 



and fine, fair features of the unconscious object of 
Ourika's love, had been but too clearly reflected 
in the mirror of her thoughts. Well 1 they were 
talking together in his mother's drawing-room, and 
among other little subjects, that of the future com- 
panions for life of the young friends was broached. 
"Ah!" exclaimed Ourika's beloved, "for me, I 
think not of settling in life ; I care for no one, and 
no one cares for me." " Nay," answered the 
other, £< I have thought for some time past that 
you would select Ourika, perhaps, for that she 
cares for you is very evident." 

Now in this room there was an enormous 
screen, such, probably, as we have often seen put 
up as a defence against draughts and the open- 
ing and shutting of doors; the mulatto girl had 
entered behind the screen during the conver- 
sation of the two young friends, and hearing 
her own name, had paused for a moment — a fatal 
moment ! Confused, bewildered, alarmed, she 
dared not make her presence known : spell-bound 
by a deep absorbing interest, she could not retreat ; 
she seemed rooted to the spot where she stood. 
All her life's happiness or misery appeared to hang 
on the next words that her adored Hyppolyte, or 
Achille, — or whatever his name happened to be, in 
short, — would pronounce. Poor Ourika! what 
sounds greeted her ears ! — culpable ears, about to 
be punished for their reprehensible depth of hue, 
their aggravated shade, beyond the recognised pale 
of civilisation of any human integument, — say of 
a brunette complexion : outside this, there is nc 
salvation for skins. 

What did Ourika hear? — a scornful, indignant, 
stinging, maddening laugh 1 



HER HOPELESS DESPAIR. 



177 



" What, I ! Ourika ! You must be crazy to 
think of such a thing ! I, indeed, marry a black 
woman ! / dishonour the blood of the What's- 
their-names ! A nice figure I should cut making 
my appearance at court, for example, with a nigger 
lady for my wife ! I should run the risk, too, 
ma foi ! of my charming consort being run away 
with, not by an elegant, — a soft, kid -gloved, 
lisping seducer, but an iron -fisted, iron-souled, 
double-soled, thick -booted rascal of a New Orleans 
merchant, on the look-out for likely slaves. Thank 
you. If I do marry, it will not be a mahogany- 
coloured West Indian mulatto, I promise you." 

Not a word did the wretched girl lose — she drank 
every drop of the whole draught of anguish. Never 
did the old saying meet with a more thorough 
exemplification, " Listeners hear no good of them- 
selves." Still, if such a fault was ever venial, it 
perhaps was so in her case. 

After the whole draught had been thus unwit- 
tingly administered by him whom she so deeply 
loved, Ourika rushed to her chamber — to her 
looking-glass — to look at the new monster she 
had never before observed ! Ah ! what a hideous 
object ! She now, for the first time, saw herself 
by the true light. She felt like a self- detected 
criminal. What wicked thoughts had she been 
harbouring ! Her whole enormity flashed in her 
mind — and eves. How could she dare to dream, 
that the perfect Hyppolyte, or Achille, or Auguste, 
or Jules, as the case might be, could look on her 
save with a proper amount of most virtuous abhor- 
rence ! Her dress displayed her dark, smooth arm, 
and her shoulders, (beautifully -turned and statu- 
esque ; but that is beside the question) — deplorable 

N 



178 



HER WRETCHEDNESS. 



sight ! Had the one been covered with a rhinoceros 
hide, and the other shrivelled and withered as Glos- 
ter's, and terminated by the paws of a black bear, 
they could not have appeared more appallingly fright- 
ful to her. That he should think of her ! Why, the 
line of demarcation was clearly marked — a muddy- 
brown line, like that which notifies at Chagres the 
separation of the beautiful, clear, bine sea from the 
polluted, muddy-looking, quakery-brown waters of 
the turbid river that rushes towards it, bearing on its 
stained bosom a few " dirty acres" in solution. 

But must it, indeed, be so ? For a moment, 
perhaps, a feeling of doubt invaded the mulatto 
maiden's saddened mind. Must the difference of a 
hue mark, indeed, a fearful division? must they 
be parted more than the waters of river and sea 
are sundered? which, after all, is only a seeming 
division; for afterwards the waters unite — the clear 
and the turbid, and the azure and the brown ; and 
must a distinction so slight as that, — a shade of 
difference, indeed, — the tinge of the skin, — is that to 
sever so rndely, so remorselessly, so infinitely, that 
which is endless, unfathomable, illimitable, inscru- 
table ? Is that to part mind from mind, soul from 
soul? 

The deep affections — the powerful, mysterious 
emotions — the winged, deathless aspirations — the 
enthusiastic and exalted sentiments of two eternal 
souls, — are thev thus to be riven and sundered? — 
is that shadow of a shade to interpose a barrier 
so terrible, so insurmountable — an obstacle so in- 
superable, between then two immortalities ? For 
a moment the idea seemed absurd. 

But in another instant rose again before her 
in dreadful array through all these misty doubts, the 



A DIGRESSION. 



179 



airy legions of conventionalities, prejudices, vanities, 
usages, associations. She shuddered, resolved to 
crush every dream of a hope in her heart — to leave 
the house, the country — to blot out the memory of 

What-do-you-call-him, and But I confess I do 

not exactly recollect the end of the story. I suppose 
and believe the poor thing died, as she was bound 
to do ; and thus the mulatto girl made herself equal 
with her white beloved one. Thus, only, can the 
Ethiop virtually change his skin. Who shall tell, 
a dozen years hence, what colour the deserted tene- 
ment of the spirit was? To this complexion we 
must come at last. 

I must entreat pardon for this digression : 
but, without this, I could not so well describe 
to the reader the fancies that flitted through my 
mind. If he ever read the pretty tale he will, 
perhaps, forgive me for so roughly (from memory) 
recalling it to his mind ; and if he never read it, 
maybe he will not be altogether indisposed to make 
its acquaintance. With this apology I will return to 
my poor Brazilian, where I left her, on the deck of 
the steamboat, crying her eyes almost out. 

Certainly, if Ourika had felt herself a crimi- 
nal for daring to dream as she had dreamt, my 
poor friend, if any romance of the kind had em- 
bellished and then embittered her life, ought to 
have judged herself much more severely. How 
many shades worse was her case ! Of how 
much deeper a dye her enormity ! How far 
more flagitious was her complexion ! How far 
more wicked the wool that must not be called hair ! 
The mulatto's was partially humanised — long, silken, 
and glossy : but this ? — what would a French hair- 
dresser do, or say, if asked to dress these huckle- 



ISO 



GAIETIES AND GRAVITIES. 



berries? (as they nickname nigger-locks in the 
United States). If to be a deep brown, and love, 
was so outrageous, what must it be to be a deep 
black, and love ? 

It must be owned, too, that whereas poor 
Ourika was said to be handsome (by the war the 
tale was, ages ago, so much in fashion in France, 
that a pretty, clear brown, was named after the 
mulatto heroine, " Ourika"), the poor weeping 
creature that so much excited my commiseration 
was exceedingly homely, not to say plain, if the 
word could be properly applied to a face so full 
of ups and downs, — with swelling hillocks, of lips, — 
and lumps and bumps of brows, with salient pro- 
tuberances and hollow indentations, — with vide 
caverns of nostrils, startling prominences of eyes, 
and bold promontories of cheek-bones jutting out 
over the Black Sea beneath ; besides a half-globular 
nose, a bulbous chin, and various irregularly-scat- 
tered knobs, and knots, and puffs, and bosses, and 
excrescences, diversifying the scene ; and grief, too, 
was by no means becoming to her particular style 
of ugliness; — (I must, however, repeat, that with 
all these disadvantages of feature she had, when 
a little more composed, a truly attractive, sweet, 
soft, gentle countenance ;) if grief became her not, 
neither was the mode of dress she evidently de- 
lighted in, a whit more favourable to her personal 
appearance. 

Like most of her race, she had a decided lean- 
ing towards the brightest of all possible colours, 
and the most brilliant and promiscuous variety 
of them. She was dressed in a very expensive and 
handsome manner, but with bad taste ; and the con- 
fusion of bright hues, together with her jetty com- 



SPECULATIONS AND COMMISERATIONS. 181 



plexion, suggested the idea of a raven or blackbird 
dressed up in the borrowed plumes of a superb 
defunct parrot or departed macaw. A brilliant 
bonnet at the very back of her woolly head, a 
light veil, a gay dress, a gaudy shawl, gloves of the 
most lovely lilac hue, ribbons of shining dye and 
texture, formed, if I recollect rightly, part of her 
apparel. 

For those among my readers who are curious 
in dress, I lament that I cannot enter into inte- 
resting details of this elaborate toilet de voyage, 
and that I cannot describe the species of French 
bonnet, or capote, which stood in lieu of a sou- 
wester, or the lace polka that was in place of a 
pilot -coat ; nor what were the particular fichu gilets 
worn, nor how much tulle or blond was employed, — 
how many volants encircled the dress, nor whether 
they measured (as the list of fashions from Paris gene- 
rally so scrupulously inform the " wide, wide world/') 
twenty-two and a quarter, or twenty-five and a-half 
centimetres each — (here the considerate English 
translator carefully instructs John Bull, that two 
and a-half centimetres make an inch) — nor whether 
the corsage had basques evasees, nor if her robe was 
covered by one of gauze a disposition, nor if her 
collar was a dent, or muslin bouffantes appeared 
between openings of the sleeves. All I know is, that 
the contrast of her gay attire with her own sombre 
hue was hardly more striking than it was with her 
heavy grief and despair. How she did cry, poor soul ! 
At one time she sought to conceal her tears from an 
inquisitive-looking passenger who stood near, — (not 
ore, dear reader — she displayed great confidence in 
me), so she pulled down her little delicate veil, which 
in half a moment was drenched through and through 



182 



CONSOLATION. 



with her tears ; — well ! it certainty was not " great 
cry and little wool," and it clung like a " barking- 
plaster " over lier prominent mouth and face, all 
swelled with weeping ; when she with difficulty raised 
it, it hung on the beautiful bonnet in the semblance 
of a piece of old rag. 

Yes ! how she did weep ! one could hardly be- 
lieve such torrents could pour from human eyes. 
Such were the floods of tears, that a nervous person, 
new to nautical life, might think we were shipping 
a sea of salt water, (though at the time we were 
still in the fresh water and smooth Tagus,) and 
begin to adjust the swimming-belt or life-pre- 
server in the neighbourhood of this profuse weeper. 
They were almost required ; without weeping your- 
self, you might be actually drowned in tears. 
Drowned in tears, indeed, she was, — you saw her 
struggling — you heard cc the bubbling cry " — the 
gasp, — you marked her saturated shawl, the dripping 
scarf, the damp bonnet-strings, the wetted wrist- 
bands, the drenched veil, the soaked lace, the 
swamped frills, the streaming ribbons, the wringing 
kid gloves, — the very parasol moistened, — with dis- 
may. The members of the Royal Humane Society 
might have hopelessly drowned themselves had they 
attempted to recover her from the effects of im- 
mersion in her own tears, still-flowing, never- 
pausing, — still-beginning, never-ending, apparently. 
Never, surely, poured such continuous showers from 
the bosom of a black cloud before ! 

" Ah, matame, vous etes bien bonne — ugh, 
ugh ! — Mais— mais je suis — ugh, ugh — ough ! — 
desolee ! — Ah, Lisboa, Lisboa !" I told her she 
should remember how much easier is now the voy- 
age to the South American Continent than for- 



STEAMBOAT SCANDAL. 



183 



merly ; she could look forward to coming here 
easily again ; she must think of the happiness of 
returning, — every year steam communication became 
more rapid ; and so forth. " Oui, matame, vous 
avez raisong — mais, ugh, ugh, — oh, oh, — boo- 
hoo, hoo !" This terrible and tantalizing " mais," 
and a tempest of sobs, always disappointed my 
just expectations ; she seemed ever to be on the 
brink of confiding to me the woes that over- 
whelmed her, and ever stopping at the critical 
moment. 

At last, after thinking of all kinds of con- 
solatory commonplaces to soothe her grief, I had 
the gratification of seeing that her demon- 
strations of sorrow were a little less violent. 
I might have seized the tempting opportunity to 
question her slightly as to her history, as she had 
repeatedly manifested a wish to take me into her 
confidence ; but really my commiseration for her 
deep distress was too sincere for me to run the 
risk of bringing back all the vivid remembrances of 
her affliction, and causing all the heart- wounds to 
bleed afresh, so I heroically abstained. 

Oh, the malice of some people ! — the love of slan- 
der — the taste for backbiting — the irresistible incli- 
nation for scandal, afloat as well as on terra firma ! 
Some lover of libellous tittle-tattle actually spread a 
report on board that my romantic Ourika, my 
tender, helpless, soft-hearted, too-gentle, meek, 
affectionate, forsaken one — or Driven-out-of-doors- 
One ; she who might so pathetically have warbled, 

" Perhaps it was well to dissemble your love : 
But why did you kick me down stairs ?" 

— this blighted flower — this dove — was — what 



184 



A NEW KIDDLE. 



do you think, reader ? — a slave-dealer, a trafficker 
in souls and bodies ! Imagine this sentimental 
damsel giving orders to have a live cargo of 
iron-fettered Africans brought over — two hundred 
and twenty square feet, perhaps, of jammed, 
crammed, panting, seething, reeking, country -men 
of her own ; yes, country-men, country-women, and 
country-children ; and begging the captain if they 
were chased not to hesitate about throwing over- 
board just such a portion of his black cargo as 
lie thought indispensably necessary, and bidding 
her overseer give the poor lately-kidnapped ones 
a sound flogging, that the young inexperienced 
slave-mind might know what it was to be whipped, 
and the young slave-idea be taught how to smart, 
and so forth : but not for a moment did I be- 
lieve the outrageous charge. It was softened 
afterwards to a retired slave-dealer, but it never 
had credence from me. A slave-dealer, past or 
present — a being all gentleness, softness, and 
susceptibility ! But really, so inventive was the 
fancy, so fertile were the imaginative resources of 
some in the steamer (I knew not who were the 
peccant individuals), that had I stayed a little 
longer on board than I did, I might have heard 
that the dark unknown had been discovered by 
them to be the Empress of Hayti incog. — Schehe- 
rezade, the Sultana of the Indies — the Great Mogul 
in disguise — the Queen of Otaheite, Pomare, — 
or the original weeping Susanna, in whose name 
they harpoon whales in the Arctic circle, bid- 
ding her not whimper when they take to blub- 
bering. She was certainly a mysterious being. 

Having comforted her a little as I have detailed, 
I left her, and walking to the other side of the 



A FALSE SOLUTION. 



185 



deck was amused at the airs and graces displayed 
by one I mentally set clown as a Portuguese 
actress, or singer, having an engagement at the 
Rio Theatre : this fanciful supposition was strength- 
ened by her often breaking into brief snatches 
of song. She wielded an enormous green fan, 
like a crimped fire-screen, and paraded about 
bonnetless on deck ; — perhaps she was a Spaniard 
from the Madrid boards, who, after charming a 
Lisbon audience, was bound to Buenos Ayres — 
who was starring it, in short, in both worlds — 
surpassing those less enterprising constellations 
above, that are content with shining on one hemi- 
sphere. I found I was in the wrong there, at any rate : 
this was the German Countess, only just married; the 
fair bride who was accompanying her husband to 
the Brazils. She had voted her blushes inconvenient 
travelling companions, and left them at home. 
It was a wise forethought ; blushes were never 
intended to display themselves on the crowded 
deck of a steamboat, under the ultra coiffure a 
la Chinoise this lady adopted, and which out- 
Chinesing the Chinese, reminded one of the very 
rough and impromptu coiffure bestowed by that 
untaught, extemporaneous, unintentional, rude hair- 
dresser of a Bluebeard, who seized the locks of 
shrieking Fatima in his fierce hands, and forthwith 
strained them up — up — up, so tight and high, — 
brandishing a scimetar instead of a comb, — that, 
had her hair been the least inclined to comb off, the 
tresses would have been all severed from the head, 
and one should think, the scalp too, before the head 
itself was severed from the shoulders. Thus did 
he dress his wife in the most exaggerated tip-top 
" a la Chinoise" mode; (at least, as we see the happy 



186 



BUT A STEP FROM THE SUBLIME 



pair generally represented in those rainbow -dyed, 
vivid prints of bright red, blue, orange, green, lilac, 
and light yellow, that are designed to cultivate a 
taste for high (coloured) art in the infant mind;) 
and this, it seemed, was the model she of the green 
fire-screen of a fan had selected. 

The other lady passenger I have before men- 
tioned, too, appeared on deck — she who was re- 
ported to be a German duchess, or princess of the 
highest rank; sometimes, however, changed (by 
report) into a French marquise of the most enor- 
mous wealth, travelling with an immense suite of 
domestics and diamonds, suppressed ladies of honour, 
sea-sick already, somewhere in the cabins below, 
and chamberlains disguised (such was her unosten- 
tatious will) as valets and couriers. 

Amongst other things she was declared to 
be the sister of the reigning Duke of Luxem- 
bourg, and as he, I believe, is in fact the King of 
Holland, it seemed certain that she was really a most 
august personage incog. Bat I will let the reader 
into a secret that I did not discover for some little 
time (though I did discover, certainly, that she was 
not the Kins: of Holland's sister, bavins: the honour 
of being acquainted with that royal lady). She was 
in real truth a second-rate French modiste, going 
to repair her shattered fortunes, which had been 
injured at the revolution, and set up shop in Rio 
cle Janeiro. As I was the first, I believe, who was 
inclined to doubt the idea of madame's being 
anything royal or aristocratical, I will give a 
slight sketch of her personal appearance to justify 
my hesitation. She was a rather tall, very corpu- 
lent dame, with one eye, half a pair of mustachios, 
several chins, stuff enough for half-a-dozen cheeks, 



TO THE RIDICULOUS. 



187 



a hundred little cunning wrinkles, a very red face 
and a very blue one — alternately, not both together 
— a kind of black velvet skull-cap, in which she 
appeared on deck, a remarkable shining forehead, 
a bullet-shaped head, an apoplectic -looking throat, 
and a button of a nose. I would not swear she 
had not a wart or two on her vasty visage. All 
her features seemed to squint, and half of them to 
sneer. Add to this, a brace of formidable hands, 
like huge shoulders of mutton underdone, (sooth to 
say, little like hands of your " little Trench milliner" 
as of a German duchess — if the last, in any revo- 
lutionary crisis she might have defended herself and 
her dominions stoutly) — and some extraordinarily 
fanciful-looking fashions — notions, the Americans 
would call them, I think — that, of course, she was 
trying to set, displayed on her portly person, and 
you may form some idea of this engaging indi- 
vidual. 

After it was ascertained what she was, it was 
bruited about in the ship that this modiste wore all 
the caps, shawls, and other finery, that she was 
going to set Rio in a blaze with, by turns, on her 
own huge form j and any one who fancied any article 
of dress upon her (strange if they did !) might 
buy it off her sur-le-champ, if it were not one la 
bienseance rendered imperatively necessary she should 
not doff in company, or without a substitute at hand: 
in fact, she was a kind of peripatetic show-room, a 
living " magasin des modes" an ambulatory stall, an 
animated bazaar of various fancy-ware for the toilet ; 
and after sitting a little while on deck adorned with 
one* set of fine things, she would rise, waddle conse- 
quentially to the companion ladder, taking care to 
spread out the particular shawl or scarf she hoped to 



188 



CAXTON AFLOAT. 



dispose of (off her mountainous shoulders) like a pea- 
cock spreading his tail — not that he means that for 
sale — and then she would disappear, and soon re- 
appear with some fresh articles of dress, and seat her- 
self again in the most conspicuous place. How the tat- 
tlers on board ever came to fabricate so unlikely a tale 
as that of this fat Parisian being a German princess, 
I cannot imagine. I have heard that in some 
emigrant ships they publish newspapers, containing 
any little scraps of gossip and information that 
can be collected in the vessel. How we should 
have shone on board our good Brazilian steamer, 
had we taken it into our heads to publish a 
daily gazette ! what wonderful histories and 
mysteries might have seen the light ! Such vast 
resources were evidently to be found in the 
creative imaginations of some of the passengers, 
that there would be little fear of a dearth of 
interesting tidings ; never would the press have been 
stopped to say there was no news. What a Court 
Circular, too, might we have had ! and what highly- 
exciting speculations ! and what a list of the 
fashions ! It really seemed a pity that we did 
not get up a daily journal on board. 

To be sure, as far as the fashions were concerned, 
after we had been a little while at sea they would 
not have shone forth very brilliantly ; the tossing 
steamer's deck would not have been exactly a 
nautical Longchamps : but a little skill in the com- 
position of the paragraphs might still have made it 
interesting. " To-day we observe the hair is worn 
in a particularly limp and neglige mode. A distin- 
guished 'fashionable ' appeared on deck, in a costume 
remarkable for its piquancy and originality ; a huge 
great coat, buttoned over a dressing-gown, shielded 



MATERIALS FOR AN EDITOR. 



189 



his person from the rather inclement wind. The gen- 
tleman, being a French ' sport-man/ perhaps, carries 
a light riding-whip, so appropriate and useful at 
sea ; he has dispensed with linen, and his toilet 
is crowned by a striking and effective night-cap, 
worn a little on one side, and rather forward over 
locks quite naturally matted and carelessly disar- 
ranged. There is another gentleman of Jiaut ton, who 
has lately returned from London, whither he origin- 
ally went to see the Great Exhibition ; this Brazilian 
gentleman is returning to Rio, where his first appear- 
ance as an elegant of extraordinary taste will occasion 
a sensation. He has picked up all he could find 
recherche in Paris, London, Edinburgh, Dublin, Vi- 
enna, Rome, Madrid, and St. Pete,rsburgh, all of 
which he visited. On deck to-day — a fine warm 
day — we remarked he displayed to advantage a 
Hungarian hussar pelisse, clasped with a Highland 
brooch, over a poncho and paletot ; a pair of Russian, 
or, we think, Calmuck trousers ; very stout Siberian 
snow-boots ; part of a shirt, charmingly variegated 
with steeple-chasers, pugilists, and ballet-dancers 
alternately ; a large pin, representing the apotheosis 
of Napoleon rising from a rock, and a box — the 
last not unlike a coach-box, in fact, but most likely 
meant for a tomb. This gentleman usually wears a 
sombrero, over a turban, or fez, both of which, by 
accident, or design (it was whispered at first), were 
yesterday placed gracefully on the folds of a coloured 
pocket-handkerchief, we fancy stamped with a bull- 
fight, or bear-bait ; this encircled his head, and en- 
tirely concealed the ears ; he grasped in one hand a 
gold -headed sprig of shillelagh for a cane — made 
to order, doubtless ; in the other, an opera-glass. 



190 



BEARDS ABOARD. 



" A Lionne made her appearance on deck to- 
day twenty-five times, in twenty -five different toi- 
lettes ; the energy displayed in the cause of fashion 
was edifying : we heard her observe how difficult 
was the task, for she had to hunt a lace cap 
and blue silk bonnet, that destiny and the lurching 
of the ship kept removing from her grasp, up and 
down her cabin for two hours, and chase a flying 
muff that sped away into the large saloon. It 
was truly the 'pursuit of dress under difficulties," — 
&c. 

"We had certainly a collection of live curiosities 
on board among the male passengers, most of them, 
it seemed, with the smallest possible allowance of 
liver : I mean not to impugn their courage in any 
way, nor to say they were " chicken or lily-livered 
cravens by no means — only that they had next 
to no livers at all, apparently : but for some 
unfortunate deficiencies, they made up by super- 
abundances in other ways, for many of them seemed 
really to have run to beard. Beards there were 
of every variety on board — of every imaginable 
diversity of time, trim, untrim, and growth, — ■ 
Charles L, Solyman the Magnificent, Tamerlane 
the Tartar, Francis I. of France, Frederic Bar- 
barossa (Redbeard), our former friend Bluebeard, 
Methuselah, the Conscript Fathers of Rome and 
Venice, Boabclil, the Wandering Jew, Old Parr, and 
other hairy worthies, were adequately represented. 
Such were the wildernesses of beards, the inimitable 
Figaro, with his appropriate Figaro qua, Figaro la, 
might have found employment uninterniittedly for 
a couple of months there, methinks ; but surely 
no mortal razor would have proved sufficient : he 



THE MYSTERIOUS MOURNER AGAIN. 191 



would have had to devise some new implement. 
Perhaps, unequal to the Herculean task with the 
common tools, he would have been seen smiting 
the twined-together members of the hairy black 
forests with an axe, as the pigmies in mythological 
fables sallied forth to cut down their com with 
hatchets. 

But I must, for a little while, return to my 
black friend. Left to her own meditations, as I 
previously described, she soon relapsed into her 
former state of woe and lamentation ; and I found 
her in a piteous condition. Poor thing ! her visage 
was so doubly swollen now by her constant weeping, 
— she was always of a very plethoric habit of face, 
— that it closely resembled a huge black sponge : 
one felt almost inclined to take and squeeze it dry 
for her. The nose was buried in the puffy mass, 
otherwise one might have taken hold of that to 
wring it by. She cried so heartily and continu- 
ously, that really it might almost have been feared 
she would positively melt away — have to be put 
into bottle, or decanted off, to preserve any remains 
of her, or actually hastily mopped up, and alto- 
gether poured into a lachrymatory (if such things 
existed now) and hermetically sealed. 

Really if the captain had come by in haste, he 
might have made some strange mistake, just glancing 
as he passed, and hearing that the hapless dame 
was so "melted in tears." He might, perhaps, have 
treated the matter lightly, too, as the man in the 
song treated another curious catastrophe ; for how- 
ever kindly disposed the captains of these steamers 
are, they are so accustomed to see the utterly sea- 
sick, or the drowmed- in -tears voyagers, who quit 
home and friends for the first time, that they are 



192 



MORE CONSOLATION. 



just a little case-hardened ; and thus might he have 
parodied the song, — 

" Here ! remove this young urchin so sick, — 
And just mop up that passenger, quick ! 
(Since the steward says, and so it appears, 
That she's melted away all in tears.) 
'T is a queer thing to liquidate so 
The great debt of Nature, I trow ! 
But sweep up the defunct, — then, I vow, 
We'll have grog to the cabin below." 

However, she was not quite dissolved, and from 
sheer inability, perhaps, to weep any more, she 
paused. Again I essayed to administer some 
consolation, and I flatter myself I partially suc- 
ceeded. The convulsive, hysterical sounds, were 
subdued, and once more she responded to my 
suggestions of comfort, interspersed with distant 
hints and faint intimations that perhaps imparting 
a little of the causes of her distracting sorrow to 
a compassionate ear might be found some trifling 
and slight alleviation. " C'est vrai, matarne, et 
vous si aimable. Oh, oui ; et sans doute, matarne, 
veut me consoler ung peu. Cependant — cependant 
—oh ! oh !" 

" Cependant" was the stumbling-block in my 
path ; over that six-barred gate I could never ven- 
ture to leap. It was impassable ; and all that lay 
on the other side continued to be a terra incognita 
to me. What mysteries were concealed there, I 
could not guess ; but Imagination filled up the 
hidden Beyond with all kinds of murders, cata- 
strophes, conspiracies, treacheries, wonders, desola- 
tions, hangings, quarterings, stabbings, heart-break- 
ings, suicides, marriages, deaths, burials, and christ- 
enings. If I timidly ventured to take up the word, 



A REMEDY FOR SORROW. 



193 



and echo interrogatively " Cependant ?" it only occa- 
sioned a fresh overflow from those apparently inex- 
haustible eyes. If there was, in sooth, a lover in 
the case, I fear that, had he beheld this " mourner 
in her suit of sables dressed," suffering under such 
an aquatic attack, — like Sir Rupert the Tearless 
in Ingoldsby's charming " Legend of Germany," he 
would have 

" From such weeping then thought her 
Scarce wife, hut at best wife-and-water ; 
And declined, as unsuited, 
A bride so diluted," — 

and thus every tie between them would have been 
wholly dissolved. 

As for me, my curiosity was still doomed to 
remain unsatisfied. I had, however, the com- 
fort of seeing that the unhappy creature was a 
little soothed by my sympathy and endeavours to 
allay her anguish ; and once more I quitted her in 
an arid interval, putting a few sopped pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs in her reticule, I rather think. 

The next time I beheld her was seated by 
my side at dinner (she was a first-class pas- 
senger) : this was verily a good sign. And the 
wretched being must have required something to 
eat, I am sure. Grief is not, certainly, what Hope 
is said to be — by Bacon, I believe — " a good break- 
fast :" it is a remarkably bad one, and, moreover, it 
will not allow us to seek for a better one ; while, like 
Hope, it is an undeniably " bad supper" (as says 
the same authority, of the latter). I therefore was 
charmed to see my poor Ourika seat herself at the 
social board : she had taken nothing since the 
morning, I feel sure, but my disinterested advice 
to dry her eyes and hope for the best; she had 



194 



A STEAMBOAT DINNER. 



touched nothing but the hearts of the compassionate 
(and they were neither fried nor stewed nor other- 
wise cooked for her, as Malice itself had not yet 
gone so far as to declare her the Queen of the 
Cannibal Islands). She had tasted of nought but 
the honeyed consolations I had done my best to 
administer, but these would not, however refreshing 
and supporting to the soul, keep body and soul 
together ; considering the rivers of tears she had 
shed, poor thing ! dry, in the literal acceptance of 
the term (notwithstanding the many pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs that had staunched her eyes and rubbed 
down her cheeks), she could hardly be, but hungry 
she must have been. 

She was certainly much more composed and 
tranquil ; the soft fumes of an excellent soup might 
partly be the cause of this, and the gently-stealing- 
on hints of a prospective leg of tender mutton 
might assist. Perhaps aware how much sorrow 
arises from tenderness, the susceptible, sympathetic 
damsel, might compassionate the mutton as the 
highly-sentimental lady, mentioned by Jules Janin 
I think, pitied a chicken, a wing of which her 
husband recommended to her, observing that it 
was " tres tendre." " Helas ! pauvre bete, il n'est 
que plus a plain dre !" and with her handkerchief to 
her eyes she mourned over the ill-starred but well- 
done fowl. 

Full soon came the tug of war, — war on soup, 
fish, &c. A preparatory tug there was, by the bye, 
and that was to get the tight -fitting, delicate, lilac 
kid gloves off the somewhat thick and closely- 
compressed fingers of the coal-black damsel. They 
seemed to be swollen like her face, and, like Guido's 
Magdalen, she had evidently "wept to her very 



TYRANNY OF FASHION. 



195 



finger ends." There stuck the gloves doggedly ; 
patiently, perseveringly she dragged and pulled, 
and coaxed and wheedled, and then growing im- 
patient, plucked and snatched and grappled with 
the enemy. They really seemed to stick almost like 
wax — a true Parisian fit ; evidently they had come 
from the native country of all gloves and shoes, 
where they truly seem indigenous, as if they sprang 
up modelled by Nature not by Art, perfection itself, 
among the vines and the cabbages (and if they did, 
and the shoes were pulled up by mistake with the 
choiix — the kitchen-stuff — a Trench cuisinier would 
make a delicious dish of them !) — only that, after all, 
they surpass Nature ; more beautiful, more delicate 
are they, apparently, than her handiworks. And 
this particular pair, it was quite wonderfully exqui- 
site, and tapering, and small, and refined : a Prax- 
iteles of a glove-maker must have conceived its fair 
proportions, and a Queen Mab of a glove-stitcher 
put his aerial ideas into execution. But was my 
new acquaintance quite wise in choosing such a 
pair for her not very aerial hands ? 

I cannot but think her sorrows must have been 
slightly aggravated throughout, by her hands having 
been encased in such a kind of vice, as each of these 
gloves must have unquestionably proved : a species of 
thumb-screw to each thumb must be a disagreeable 
addition to any pain of mind or body ; and if the 
hands were kept in such close custody, there seems 
little reason to doubt the feet were also thus 
cabined, cribbed, and confined. 

Many an earthly pang must have been deepened 
and increased by the sharp pinching of the pitiless 
shoe, — of the small silken slipper. How often the 
grief of cherished hopes destroyed, to which fond 



196 HINTS WORTHY OF ATTENTION. 



hearts were close bound, would be less severe but 
for the cruel close binding of the satin pump, the 
cutting pressure on the unfortunate swollen instep ! 

It is a pity that people should thus aggra- 
vate gratuitously the many ills that flesh is heir to. 
" 'Tis not in mortals to command" Pate, but why 
should they make it thus doubly unendurable by 
encountering it in a torturing chausmre? Will 
not the shafts of Destiny sting more when the iron 
band of Fashion has made, perchance, the person 
tender and sore? If we must lift the bitter cup 
of Adversity to our lips, let us not lift it with hands 
cased in over-tight kid gloves, of lilac, lemon-colour, 
or any other hue, that crack in the seam as we 
painfully raise the dark goblet to our mouths. 

Why, oh ! why, — a thousand times why, — ye 
lords of creation, if your heads must bow beneath 
the merciless stroke of Doom, bow them thus, 
surmounted by a hideous black chimney-pot of a 
hat, that nineteen times out of twenty leaves a 
deep, strong, crimson mark, like a rim of red tape, 
or a ring of fire, or a blushing wrinkle, or a circling 
stain of ruby wine, or a long dash of rouge, or a 
narrow string of coral, or a line ruled in red ink, 
or a bandeau of sealing-wax, upon your unfortunate 
foreheads ? Up ! and say, boldly, " If our hearts 
must bleed, let not our heads bleed too. We may 
have to bear the yoke of sorrow on our necks, but 
it mends not the matter to suffer it in apoplexy- 
inducing, choking cravats — the wretched necks, 
unable to bend, might break ; severed ties oft 
cause our sorrow, but does not an equal suffering 
sometimes spring from not relaxing the tie of a 
stern neckcloth ?" Fall not " prostrate/' grovelling 
in the dust, thou victim of Woe in a tight-fitting 



COMPOSURE AT LAST. 



197 



coat; or thou mayest find it difficult to scramble up 
again. Human beings have continually poured out 
their wrath against the iron rule of Necessity, the 
cruel despotism of Life, the chain, the bar, the 
clog, the dart, the rod, the scourge, and so forth. 
More honestly might they ofttimes complain of the 
button, the brace, the hook and eye, the boot-lace, 
the loop, the strap, the stud, the stitch, the starch, 
the seam, the clasp, the strings, the pin, the knot, 
the tie, the buckle. But enough on this point : 
let me return to the pleasing subject of dinner. 

After the gloves were dragged off all went 
on smoothly, till, in a very sudden manner, poor 
Ourika rose up and quitted the festive board ; pre- 
cipitately she fled — so precipitately that she left 
behind her the pair of light lilac-coloured gloves, 
which had so closely clung to her jetty hands. They 
were given to the waiter to restore to her, but 
whether he forgot them, or thought his own ringers 
would look well imprisoned in the dainty kid, I do 
not know, but the poor lady, after a while, came to 
ask news of her gloves, and as we referred her to 
the delinquent, she soon had the pleasure of tor- 
turing her hands in them again. 

I am happy to say the poor soul, if she did 
not quite regain her spirits, soon recovered her 
composure ; but I would not run the risk of dis- 
turbing her newly-acquired equanimity by asking 
her anything relating to her late trepidation and 
anguish, therefore I still remain in ignorance as to 
whether she was the victim of a misplaced or ill- 
starred attachment, or whether she was simply 
an active little womau of business going out on 
a speculation, (not in that horrible line of business 
though, I should hope, that might be described in 



198 



CATCH SIGHT OF MADEIRA. 



the manner undertakers do the details of their trade 
in England sometimes, as being " black jobs," — 
black enough, Heaven knows !) : however, to the 
ill-starred attachment I incline. 

After a pleasant voyage, we arrived in sight of 
Madeira on a beautiful day. It is always delightful 
to see land, but it is yet more so, of course, when that 
land is adorned with exceeding loveliness, and pos- 
sesses a charming, soft, salubrious climate. I think 
Point San Lorenzo is the first passed, and after that, 
on the left, lies a low, and long, and rugged range 
of cliffs (which form the most eastern point of 
Madeira), and a singular assemblage of large rocks, 
called the Desertas. One of these, at the northern 
extremity, is reckoned very much like a huge vessel 
in full sail. A Danish ship of war once, it is related 
by some writers, under the misapprehension that it 
was one, actually, as a signal to it to hoist its co- 
lours, discharged a gun. The rock not having any 
colours to show but its native brown and grey, 
hoisted none, and the vessel of war fired upon it, 
to chastise it for its stubbornness and disobedience. 
This the rock bravely stood — like a rock. The 
distance between this spot and Point San Lorenzo 
is about nine English miles. 

Madeira presents a noble appearance to the eye 
of the voyager when approaching from the North. 
Although its mountains are not very high, yet their 
upper portions are often encircled with light clouds, 
and their summits are seen towering above these 
vapoury veils, which conveys the impression of their 
being higher than they are in reality. Occasionally 
a wild, bold peak, is observed exalting its lofty 
brow above the adjacent heights, and it appears to 
be sternly frowning among the clouds that hang 



MADEIRA. 



199 



around it. Beneath is beheld the rich massy foliage 
of the thick green woods ; and lower stretches a 
striking line of cliffs, that raise their heads proudly- 
above the mighty waters of the Atlantic Ocean, 
whose waves are foaming and heaving as they dash 
themselves madly against the feet of these rugged 
rocks. 

Here and there, the shadowy entrance to some 
vasty cavern, or ravine amidst these cliffs, opens 
it dark jaws, as it were, — sometimes looking like a 
huge monster, watching to suck into its gaping 
mouth its fellow-monsters of the deep. 

Cape Girao, the most singular and worthy of 
notice among the headlands that rise in succession 
before the eye, is more than seventeen hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, and is said to be 
the highest promontory of the kind in the world. 
I should be inclined to doubt this, strongly ; some 
authorities, however, maintain that it is nearly two 
thousand feet. 

The greater part of the coast presents a con- 
tinued range of these headlands or cliffs ; they are 
usually of a more precipitous character on the north 
than on the south coast. Numerous trees adorn 
the craggy masses, the ravines, and the ridges on 
the north ; but this is not the case on the opposite 
side, which is far more arid and barren, lacking 
the moisture which causes the vegetation to spring 
up with luxuriant profusion and strength. 

Madeira altogether, at a distance, has a fine and 
picturesque, but perhaps not a particularly smiling 
appearance. Some have likened it to an enormous 
castle of dark marble, with its huge embattled, 
partly- dilapidated walls, springing directly out of the 
waters of the dark blue ocean, and its many-crested 



200 



MADEIRA. 



towers and turrets, bearing numerous scars of strife 
or of the gnawing tooth of time. But as the vessel 
approaches nearer and nearer, the scene presented 
becomes more prepossessing. 

In general, to reach the anchorage off Funchal, 
sailing-vessels keep oat from the land after round- 
ing the Cape, which the English have distinguished 
by the name of Brazen Head, and whose Portu- 
guese appellation is Cape Garajao (it is so named 
from a peculiar species of sea-gull, its British sobri- 
quet of Brazen Head is probably from the reddish- 
brown colour of the rocks). They do this, unless 
there should be a strong easterly wind blowing, to 
reach the westerly ocean-breeze, called here an em- 
bate ; it usually blows from eight to nine months 
of the year, and is occasioned by the cloud-capped 
heights forming an eddy when the prevailing wind 
comes from the north or the north-east. 

In the stormy winter months the Atlantic rolls 
into the bay with terrific force; the roadstead is open, 
and being without any shelter from all the strong 
blasts that blow from east to south-west, sometimes 
great damage and destruction happen among the 
vessels at anchor. Should they drag their anchors, 
or part their cables, there is little hope for them. 
The Portuguese generally exhibit on these occasions 
considerable alacrity, skill, presence of mind, and 
intrepidity. At times, five or six vessels have come 
on shore here in the course of a few hours, without 
a soul being lost, owing to the timely aid bestowed, 
and the praiseworthy perseverance and energy of 
the Madeira sailors. Such a case happened during 
a tremendous storm — at night, too — not many 
years ago, without a single loss of life. 

Sailing-vessels generally anchor, as a precaution- 



FEELINGS ON APPROACHING LAND. 201 

ary measure of safety, about a quarter of a mile 
from the rock called the Loo (I believe, properly, 
" Ilheo," little island), which yields an excellent 
holding-ground at a depth of about twenty-eight 
fathoms. Thus they are clear of the Points, and 
can under ordinary circumstances slip their cables 
and put out to sea ere the threatened gale sets in 
with its full severity. Steam-vessels commonly 
anchor much closer to the land, not being exposed 
to these dangers, and finding it, of course, more con- 
venient for coaling and landing passengers. Every 
moment almost the prospect seemed to improve. 
A great deal of the fertility of the island is said to 
be owing to the exertions of a Senhor Luiz 
d'Ornellas Vasconcellos, the brother of Madeira's 
solitary peer, the Baron San Pedro. One of the 
most sterile and frowning heights here he has clothed 
with a rich and nourishing growth of pine. The 
plantation, altogether, I believe, covers nearly three 
hundred acres, and it is to be hoped his example 
will be extensively followed. 

What a pleasant bustle prevails on board ship 
when land is approached, and many of the pas- 
sengers are contemplating the agreeable prospect 
of exchanging that prison within a prison — (for 
Dr. Johnson somewhat aptly compared a ship to 
one, adding, too, " and with the chance of being 
drowned") — that little cramping cabin in which 
you have been boxed up, feeling yourself quite 
elephantine in comparison with your mite of a 
temporary receptacle 1 

I have often observed, however, that in some 
incomprehensible manner the tiny cabin appears 
gradually to extend itself miraculously, — that cabin 
which you think, when you first enter it, might be 



202 



SHIP ACCOMMODATIONS. 



considered to offer rather indifferent accommodation 
for a respectably-sized fly, if he brought any of his 
large family on board with him, bent on a plea- 
sure-tour, intending perhaps to become a buzzer 
of foreign languages, or rather foreign hums, on 
his return to his native window-pane or flower- 
bed. Despair seized your heart on your first 
squeezing yourself into this little cell, which you 
had to do piecemeal, gently insinuating a nose, as it 
were the small end of a wedge ; then the rest of the 
head, which you felt by the time it was wholly in 
would be flattened like the compressed noddles of 
those poor Indian infants which the traveller in 
America has beheld tightly fitted between two 
boards, to reduce them to the fashionable shape re- 
quired by the red men ; then, sideways, you poke 
in a shoulder ; then try to advance a foot ; and 
at last stand — marvelling how you gat you there 
— in the small cellule ; then come sad thoughts 
concerning the impracticability of stowing away a 
tooth-brush even in this place, which your own 
person appears to fill entirely ; nay, you find you 
have but one foot in the (temporary) grave, as yet : 
with vehement efforts you proceed to drag the re- 
maining foot that was forgotten outside, into the 
place. The most distracting anxieties supervene 
regarding combs, sponges, and the various indis- 
pensable accompaniments of a civilised toilet. 

In the bitterness of the moment you think 
that ship-builders, — builders of steam -packets in 
particular, — have registered a solemn vow to over- 
turn the bases of human dress, to subvert the toilet- 
table as by law of fashion and custom established, 
and to introduce a frightful state of anarchy and 
disorder by bringing to a sudden end that time- 



FEELINGS ON VIEWING YOUR CABIN. 203 

honoured institution, the pincushion ; and by thus 
entirely revolutionising the state of things as relates 
to apparel, to leave civilised beings in the rude con- 
dition of the cannibal or savage, who thinks his 
dressing necessities fully provided for, if he arm 
himself on the eve of a long journey with a tall 
feather to adorn his single lock, a string of beads 
and a war -club, not forgetting a spare scalp or 
two. Thus furnished, he feels confidently he may 
present himself in the very best society. 

But mark the sequel. After you have been a 
short time in this tight-fitting habitation (leaving the 
door open in case you should be asphyxied), where 
you appear immoveable, and where you feel some- 
thing like a sandwich, stuck between two thin slices 
of wood, a gradual change takes place. 

Slowly the cabin appears to stretch itself in 
a most unexpectedly accommodating manner. In- 
numerable little nooks and openings reveal them- 
selves to your anxious eyes • there is actually room 
for a small tooth-brush there, on that fairy slab, 
which from its minuteness you have not before 
observed $ you believe that you can in very truth 
contrive to place a comb upon that ledge, which 
seems suddenly to have grown out of the wooden 
wall ; you really now begin to entertain an idea 
of finding a spot in which to seat yourself occa- 
sionally, instead of performing the whole voyage 
standing as in a sort of pillory (if disinclined to 
the saloon), except when you are in that horrible, 
long, narrow, open drawer, the berth, — where you 
are to be " adroitly shelved," like an unpleasant 
bill. By degrees you positively discover a place 
where the whole carpet-bag with its precious con- 
tents can be deposited bodily ; and so the cabin goes 



204 



AWKWARD MISTAKES. 



on steadily growing and growing, till it becomes 
a very roomy, charming habitation. So spacious, 
indeed, that you begin to think it would look 
better a little more filled up. A wardrobe, a small 
library, a four-post bed, a couple of tables, a few 
arm-chairs, and one or two sofas, might surely be 
introduced with advantage. There is a place for 
every thing, although you can hardly say that every 
thing is in its place : but too often, at sea, tout au 
contraire. A very little rolling will frequently 
suffice to put all you have arranged in apple-pie 
order in the most bewildering confusion, and you 
must be wide awake in the morning, after a night 
of a rather unquiet' kind, if you would not make a 
vast number of annoying mistakes. 

For instance, if Monsieur le Voyageur gets up, 
that is, scrambles down from his berth with his 
eyes half shut, he may begin shaving himself with 
a revolver, or combing his hair with a razor, — and 
so may find all his cherished locks tumbling about 
him in fast-falling showers, cleanly shaved off ; or 
he might discover himself employing a pointed pair 
of scissors for a boot-hook, thereby making a deep 
hole in his leg ; or putting his foot into his hat 
instead of his slipper, or tying his stockings round 
his throat in place of his cravat, or putting the 
shaving- basin on his head instead of his travelling- 
cap, and take, in lieu of a pocket-handkerchief, a 
piece of tarpauling that has found its way into the 
cabin, or light his tooth-brush for a cigar; for so 
had all things changed their places, that not a thing 
would be in the spot where he had carefully arranged 
it on the previous night. You would do best to look 
for every thing where you did not leave it before; it 
is pretty sure to have gone to the Antipodes. Aye ! 



CONFUSION WORSE CONFOUNDED. 205 

what a glorious confusion sometimes meets the eye of 
the awakening voyager ! What a happy family of 
incongruous things consorting amicably together ! 
We will picture a male passenger's "rude sea- 
grot/' by storms distracted. (Gentlemen, no doubt, 
cannot arrange their cabins as neatly as ladies can.) 
A collection of lucifer matches are stuck into the 
teeth of your combs. There is a corkscrew inex- 
tricably entangled with your watch chain, cough 
lozenges jammed into your soap, an orange is in 
each slipper, a broken glass and a biscuit in either 
glove, your ink-bottle has been emptied into your 
waistcoat-pocket, and your neat journal, or small 
drawing-book — if you have one — and, of course, 
your delicately-finished favourite coloured sketches, 
are incurably drowned in the jug of water. 

When land is in sight the disordered articles 
seem to shake themselves into their right places, 
and lo ! by the time all is ready for a start, your 
cabin has contracted itself again, — or your ideas, 
revelling in the prospect of spacious rooms and 
liberty to wander whithersoever you will, disdain 
the confined space and the long, exceedingly nar- 
row, shallow shelf, where you had slept — yes, slept ! 
— rocked by the wind's "rude lullaby," — hoisted 
up like a leg of mutton on the tray a butcher-boy 
bears balanced on his head, only that your tray 
was narrower, and less comfortable and luxurious, 
and the ship not so steady in its motions, as the 
butcher-boy aforesaid. 

After passing Point Sao Lourenco and, I think, 
the Desertas, the agreeably-situated hamlets of 
Santa Cruz and Machico come in sight. That line of 
coast that forms the Bay of Punchal (which, perhaps, 
hardly deserves that grandiloquent title), recedes 



206 



BAT OF PUNCH AL. 



by degrees from the headland of the Cape Garajao 
upon the eastern side towards the city of Funchal, 
a distance that is usually stated to be about three 
miles English ; it then juts out again more de- 
cidedly and rapidly towards Ponta da Cruz, that 
lies to the west of the capital, with perhaps an 
indentation of from half to three-quarters of a mile. 
The coast is fine,, and appears rude and steep be- 
tween Cape Garajao and Fort Sant' lago, forming the 
eastern boundary of the city. The new quarantine 
establishment is ; I understand, situated at the en- 
trance of a bold mountain o-oro-e that diversifies the 
scenery here. The beach, with its rough shingles, 
commences from Fort Sant' Iago. It stretches to 
the Ribiera de Sao Paulo, which is the western 
boundary (this is frequently denominated Ribiero de 
Sao Joao) ; after this the shore regains its more rocky 
and craggy appearance. As to the bay itself, should 
the day be fair and propitious, as the voyager turns 
to it his pleased gaze, it resembles a pearly lake, 
while the city lies smiling and sheltered in its 
farthest and most sequestered corner. The Pon- 
tinha (or Narrow Point), and the Loo Rock, are 
conspicuous objects, each being surmounted by a 
fort. The Pontinha joins the mainland by a 
species of bridge : I do not know whether it is 
natural or artificial. Loo Rock is very picturesque, 
indeed : it stands alone, abruptly springing, as it 
were, out of the waters, at a moderate distance from 
the land — that lofty and striking coast which is seen 
towering in uneven and varied sublimity behind. 
Small vessels occasionally seek for some slight re- 
fuge and protection there, while they are under- 
going repairs. 

Telegraphic communications are kept up be- 



FUNCHAL. 207 

tvveen tlie hills that lift their proud crests above 
the Brazen Head and this rock ; and by a code of 
signals from the fort due notice is given of the 
approach of ships. Thus, ere they arrive at their 
anchorage, all particulars concerning them are 
known, as well as the direction from which their 
course is held, or in which they first make their 
appearance. 

The view has now become exceedingly charming 
and interesting; above the many-turreted city of 
Funchal the signs of flourishing vegetation are 
abundant. Here there are beautifully-trellised vine- 
yards, and there are quintas and villas, almost lost 
in embowering groves, and often surrounded by 
lovely and smiling gardens • while here, again, are 
patches enriched with the banana and sugar-cane. 
The colours, spread brightly over the surface of the 
hills, are enchanting and much variegated : now a 
rich regal-looking purple, and now a rosy suffusion, 
and in another place, perhaps, a golden glow, or a 
faint orange tint. There are sparkling rivers, too ; 
and where they are not seen, the eye follows them out 
by the marked lines of overshadowing trees, gene- 
rally fine chestnuts, which are thickly planted on 
each side of the stream, and which grow there in 
full, flourishing, exuberant pride. But here and there 
you may catch a glance of the actual, gleaming, 
silvery " Ribiero," that so freshens all around it; and 
the white, shining city itself, too, is fully displayed 
to the gaze, with its balconied and often tower - 
surmounted houses. Those turrets are, in fact, 
belvederes, from which the prospect-loving inha- 
bitants gaze upon the sea, the hills, and the various 
cultivated grounds, and plantations, and vineyards 
near the city. The ravishing blue sky of the south 



208 



A LOVELY PANORAMA. 



completes the charm. Not a cloud to dim its lustre 
— pure, bright, shining — as it could know no change 
and no diminution of splendour ; and the air is clear, 
indeed, and sparkling with a golden brightness, — 
how soft, and balmy, too ! Its transparency is par- 
ticularly striking. Every object is beheld with all its 
minutiae and details. Here the famous line, 

" 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view," 

hardly holds good ; things seen at a distance seem 
to have no soft interposing veil spread between 
them and the eye : the outlines are as sharp 
and decided, the colours as definite ; the various 
irregularities of surface on yon bold steep afar, with 
its rugged peaks and pinnacles, and jutting pro- 
minences, seem as distinctly seen as those of the 
nearest cliff — as fully marked as the least stain or 
tiniest hue on the lofty pillar upon the beach (a 
pillar originally intended for the unloading of ves- 
sels, but the work was interrupted for some reason 
or other, and has never quite arrived at completion : 
when first built, the sea laved its base). You almost 
think you could see a fly crawling up the wall of 
the Mount Church, which is beheld shining in the 
sun, at the imposing elevation of nearly two thou- 
sand feet. 

Another object observed from the bay is the 
Peak Castle ; some promenades and public walks, 
also, are visible among the thickly-clustering white 
houses — one that is in front of the governor's 
mansion being called " Praca da Rainha." The city 
faces the south, and in form somewhat resembles 
an amphitheatre, the mountains (rising to a height 
of more than four thousand feet) terminating the 
prospect at the back; the nearer overhanging steeps 



NOSSA SENHORA DO MONTE. 



209 



also present this peculiar shape and appearance, and 
you seem to look upon an amphitheatre within an 
amphitheatre, the outer one being of truly Titanic 
proportions. 

The double- domed church of Nossa Senhora 
do Monte on the heights above, in the rear of the 
town, is a very conspicuous object. It rises out 
of a rich deep wood of chestnut trees. Nossa 
Senhora do Monte is looked up to with the 
most affectionate veneration by all the Roman 
Catholic mariners. She is considered a sure pro- 
tectress in all cases of watery peril ; and many 
miraculous interpositions of hers, under circum- 
stances of appalling danger, are recounted seriously 
and devoutly believed. The cemetery of the natives 
and Portuguese is a beautiful object ; its mournful 
cypresses stand like shadowy sentinels of Death 
along the verge of the frowning cliff. Near the 
palace of the governor (the " Forteleza," which 
rears itself rather conspicuously behind the pleasure- 
grounds of the Praca da Rainha, and seems to be 
an architectural olla podrida), are the fragments of 
a mole. Some unwise speculators pretty literally 
made ducks and drakes of thirty or forty thousand 
dollars, injudiciously squandered on this vain under- 
taking. No sufficient foundation could be secured, 
and the greater part of it has already been ruined 
and washed away by the waters of the sea. In ad- 
dition to the objects I have enumerated, the Pra^a 
Academica and the Custom-house attract the eye ; 
and at the back of the town the Santa Clara con- 
vent exhibits its glaring spotless walls of white. 
The scene was altogether exhilarating, and must, I 
fear, have been peculiarly bewitching to the poor 
Brazil-bound passengers, many of whom came 



210 



VICTIMS OF SEA-SICKNESS. 



crawling out of their dens at the announcement of 
land, and casting looks of envy at those who had 
already arrived at their destination. It must have 
been heartrending to them to have been thus beck- 
oned, so to say, to the green arms of their mother 
Earth ! in vain. Verily, their faces are pretty nearly 
as green as the face of that tender mother herself. 
Some of them look already like sheeted spectres, 
with those livid complexions, varying between young 
lemons and old cold oyster-sauce seen by gaslight : 
what will they be by the time they arrive at Ilio de 
Janeiro? Tiiey might positively resort to snap- 
dragons to beautify them, and give them com- 
paratively a complexional charm. 

Ourika had quite the " whip-hand " of them 
all ; hers was a good fast colour, warranted not to 
vary on any emergencies. If anything, she appeared 
a little more sooty than before, from the contrast 
with the poor cadaverous -looking people surround- 
ing her. Black is decidedly your wear, where the 
skin is exposed, to display all the various tell-tale 
hues of a liver unpleasantly affected by the unlovely 
" mal de mer." 

What strange objects did one see ! Here stood 
a lean and slippered Pantaloon, who appeared about 
eight -and -twenty on starting, but who had run 
through the intervening acts of life with frightful 
rapidity, till he had apparently got to threescore : he 
looked as if he had been buried and dug up again, 
which, in fact, he almost had been, having been con- 
stantly sepulchred in his dismal dormitory during the 
whole voyage. For a length of time he had hung up, 
a specimen of "suspended animation." When he first 
came on board he was gaily dressed in the extreme 
of the fashion, but he soon went through a kind of 



FRENCH ART AND NEGRO FINERY. £11 

reversed process of the chrysalis and butterfly, and 
lost, at length, all his sheen and splendour. 

The steward, like a kind of body-snatcher, has 
gone from cabin to cabin, pulling out the all but 
inanimate inmates. There is another unfortunate 
being, who totters forth with helpless gait, not very 
accurately dressed. His toilet is susceptible of many 
improvements, — his head of hair looks like a decrepit 
tooth-brush pensioned off, with its few surviving 
bristles sticking here and there with a melancholy 
tenacity of existence ; and his eyes look as if they 
had been gouged out and put in again temporarily. 
He seemed much crumpled, too, and to need a 
smoothing-iron, or something of the kind. The 
Parisian milliner presented a splendid appearance ; 
she did not seem the worse for the voyage and its 
discomforts, and she sat in state in the ladies' cabin 
(whither I went to take leave of my black friend), 
with as many shawls, scarfs, lappets, veils, "jabots," 
flounces, mantles, sashes, trimmings, handkerchiefs, 
collarettes and ribbons, as she could contrive to hang 
about her very ample person. She looked like a 
chimney-sweeper on May-day, or, rather, like several 
rolled into one. Poor Ourika stood by her, evidently 
in meek admiration. Perhaps the similitude I have 
alluded to might more correctly be applied to her, 
complexion ally speaking, and also from the actually 
superior variety and profusion of colours she dis- 
played. 

The corpulent Parisienne cast many a look 
of disdain at the gentle negress ; and those looks, 
occasionally, were of that lengthened description 
with which the tyrant in a tragedy regards the 
object of his vengeance, when that individual, 
whoever he may be, has ventured to remonstrate on 



212 



ART AND FINERY 



any subject, or to question the right of said tyrant, 
possibly, to dispose of his head and stage-wig, or 
quarter him, instanter, — that tremendous stare, 
sometimes very slow — sometimes fearfully fast — 
when, in the latter case, down drop the eyes to the 
shoe-strings, but (like cats, lighting on their legs,) 
straight ascend again, and are in a moment at the 
topmost hair of that stage- wig, — an up-and-down 
and up- again look — a Montagne-Husse sort of a gaze 
— a glance that measures you so completely from 
head to foot, that two and a-half such looks from 
your tailor might surely be sufficient to secure you 
an excellent fit of a full suit of clothes without more 
ado; and if the tragedians would only teach the 
tailors this rapid mode of measuring, much time 
and tape might be saved. It might do for the 
shoemakers, too, perchance. 

You would have marvelled, seeing the black 
damsel so meek and mild, why her companion in- 
flicted on her those terrible, long, searching, scornful 
glances, as if she would penetrate the secret of her 
soul ; as if haughtily, though scrutinizingly, she 
would pierce through every fold of her heart, 
know what stuff her soul was made of, the texture 
of her mind, the quality of her intellectual being, 
and unravel the intricacies of her whole internal 
existence ; and perhaps would ascertain whether her 
mental horizon was sunny and couleur de rose, or 
clouded and gloomy. But you would have been 
quite wrong; she only wished thoroughly to ex- 
amine the folds of her shawl, to know what stuff 
her gown was made of, the quality of her scarf, and 
whether it was strictly couleur de rose or cerise; 
she secretly desired, peradventure, to unravel the 
fringe that depended from a curious-looking hand- 



EXCHANGE GLANCES. 



213 



kerchief encircling her neck, to ascertain whether it 
was a mixture of worsted and silk, or what. In 
short, it was but the depths of the damsel's dress she 
wished to penetrate to, and not to the depths of her 
mind. One-twentieth part of her one eye only was 
on me while she conversed with me (a fifteenth 
part was devoted to my shawl, and a fourth to the 
silk cloak of a lady hard by, and so forth, — so that 
that one eye was a hard-working one) : the rest was 
absorbed in profound contemplation of the articles 
of Ourika's dress. She was arguing about the French 
Constitution, Louis Napoleon, &c. In advancing 
the various arguments of her capacious mind, she 
did not forget or omit to advance her capacious 
feet, clad in the finest of open-worked stockings, 
— for sale — not the feet, but these web-like 
coverings ; also in displaying her powers of rea- 
soning, she largely and conspicuously displayed 
her Cashmere shawl, and pointed out striking 
coincidences with her fringed parasol die dernier 
gout; she spoke of financial difficulties, while a 
scarce-suppressed calculation rose to her lips that 
she Avas mentally making respecting the price per 
yard of some net that adorned a part of the black 
lady's apparel. 

To judge by her severe sneer, she computed 
this at sixpence-halfpenny-farthing " par aune " 
only — " On dit que tout au plus il y a pour payer 
tout cela vingt-cinq millions" — (aside) — " Peut- 
etre e'est quatorze sous et demi 1'aune," and so 
on. She told me she had been in the very midst 
of the revolution, and was frightened almost to 
death. She found afterwards that ruin stared her 
full in the face (very bad taste Ruin showed, me- 
thought), and decided on quitting her beloved but 



214 



POLITICS : 



slightly inconstant and change-loving Paris. She 
did not desire again to see the banner of Insurrection 
waved — here the embroidered handkerchief was 
well shaken before the eyes of those who might 
haply wish to become purchasers of the article ; it 
was not only the crown that was in danger, — when 
there was one ; bonnets themselves might fall a 
prey to revolutionizing ideas, and the cap of liberty, 
which the people delighted in coiffeing poles with, 
might become their substitute, — and her own bon- 
net was advantageously displayed at the moment. 

It was her own private opinion that gauze and 
taffeta skirts would survive the shock of falling 
thrones and the wreck of dynasties ; and she spread 
out various articles of those airy materials that 
adorned her person, — much too airy for her huge 
proportions, for she looked like a hippopotamus 
caught by mistake in a spider's web. 

She continued : People talked of " the cause/* 
■ — there were so many causes in France ! — but what 
were any of them to the effect of a fine toilette and 
tournure? Then she expatiated on the impropriety 
of changing administrations too frequently, and the 
absolute necessity of changing fashions, glancing 
scornfully at the dress of an unlucky lady-passenger, 
who had a flagitious bonnet of the last season, and a 
perfectly heinous shawl of at least two years back. 
Mankind must have some variety, and the charming 
fluctuation in the " modes " was the mighty safety- 
valve that, properly attended to, was the recipe for 
all revolutionizing tendencies, and for the reckless, 
restless spirit of unnecessary innovation. Change 
the lace trimming of a gauze cap, or the way of 
adjusting a bow, a bead, a sprig, or a tassel, and 
you may be preventing unconsciously a monarchical 



HOW INFLUENCED. 



215 



catastrophe, and damming up unwittingly the 
floods of the democratical deluge. 

Madame almost seemed to take some blame 
upon herself. She might have allowed the fashions 
to languish, mayhap, by neglecting to alter the form 
of a chemisette, or by permitting a peculiar fichu a 
chdle to survive for a month, instead of closing its 
existence in a fortnight, and thus wearying the 
female mind, and fatiguing with monotony the eye 
of mankind. She might have been the real cause of 
the revolution; her culpable neglect might have been 
the means of precipitating Louis Philippe from the 
throne, and causing him to wander as " Mr. Smith" 
to perfide Albion ; and thus, in fact, she was at the 
bottom of all the mighty train of events that ended 
in making the heir of Napoleon, president. 

A Parisian milliner has a tremendous respon- 
sibility. It is all very well talking of Algiers as 
being useful in carrying off the wild spirits of 
France ; but though well enough in its way, or as 
an auxiliary, — according to her, but ply the French 
mind properly with newly-devised " canezous," a 
triumphant success in cuff's and " capotes," a fresh 
ribbon, a lately -discovered ruffle, an original neck- 
tie, copied by all the nations of the civilized world, 
and France is satisfied (and, as we have since been 
told by the highest authority, when she is satisfied 
the universe is at peace). 

Madame proceeded to give us some interesting 
information respecting herself, to all of which the 
black lady listened reverentially, opening her wide 
eyes wider, and her mouth too, as if to swallow 
the most enormous fib Madame could by possi- 
bility invent; the latter flourishing her cambric 
handkerchief most sympathetically, and affection- 



216 



REFLECTIONS ON BEARDS. 



ately patting her gown to make its folds fall 
properly, told us she was, as we saw, going alone, 
but her mari would follow with a vast many addi- 
tional bandboxes per next packet. She seemed 
particularly sure of this. I did not feel so certain 
of the fact; — the bandboxes perhaps, — yes, the 
bandboxes may duly arrive, but Monsieur may 
prefer remaining in la belle France — who knows ? 
A patriot must sacrifice his inclinations to the good 
of his country. I opine seriously, that the next 
packet will bring Madame nought save a beggarly 
array of boxes (not empty ones, though), while the 
precious treasure of Madame's heart, as we must 
suppose Monsieur to be, may be missing. How- 
ever heart-breaking, he may consider it incumbent 
on him to stay and help the Constitution-mongering 
in his native land. His heart at Rio, his head may 
be wanted at Paris — in some sense or other, on 
or off. 

Who can wonder, by the way, at the late fashion 
in Paris of wearing beards ? Shaving, I believe, is 
generally considered a very troublesome operation, 
and Parisian gentlemen, like Madame de Sevigne's 
friend, in restless, uncertain, revolutionary times, 
when popular ebullitions of feeling of the most 
violent kind were an every-day occurrence, might 
very sensibly decline taking the pains to shave 
themselves and trim their hair, till they finally knew, 
or could form some sort of a guess, as to whom 
or what their heads were to belong — whether to 
themselves or the " maitre des hautes ceuvres," — to 
the guillotine or their native shoulders, — whether 
to a cannon ball, a liberty pole, or their own well- 
filling chapeau or casquette, as the case might be. 

At last I took leave of the eloquent Parisienne, 



ARRIVAL AT MADEIRA. 



217 



and of my poor Ourika, who was quite affected at 
our leaving her. She pressed my hands severely in 
her own tightly-gloved ones, and ended by sharply 
kissing them ; and then she roughly visited my 
companion's cheek with an extensive kiss. Poor, 
kind-hearted, grateful, affectionate being, she was 
quite mournful when at last, with many expressions 
of our good-will, we left her to Fate and the French 
milliner, whose gowns and shawls she looked up to, 
evidently as to superior beings. 

On reaching the deck we found some indica- 
tion of rain ; the treacherous blue sky we had so 
implicitly trusted, was looking a little lower- 
ing. The waters were not particularly placid, and 
as the landing is very inconvenient and trouble- 
some at Madeira, the Brazil-bound passengers 
began somewhat to recover their spirits. We were 
not so much to be envied after all ! To punish us 
for stopping short at fair Madeira, and exposing 
them to the sorrow of coveting our happier lot, we 
should have a plentiful tossing in the self-acting 
blanket of the deceitful bay, — that before had looked 
not like a blanket, passive or active, but a sheet of 
silver. 

Even the gentleman cotffe a la superannuated 
tooth-brush brightened up ; he ran his fingers 
through two hairs on either side of his head, and 
executed a smile with some difficulty (his lips 
had so constantly framed the dissyllable " Steward, 
steward," that I almost was inclined to think, had his 
head been chopped off, it would have rolled into the 
deep, muttering " Steward, steward, stew — , st — 
as the apple wo man's did " Pippin, pippin, pip — ," 
when it met with a like misadventure, and was roll- 
ing in an uncomfortable way down the hilly street). 



218 



PERILS OF LANDING. 



However, we heard no time was to be lost ; we 
mentally ejaculated, " and no boxes or bags " (which 
sometimes are, in such hasty proceedings), and after 
giving directions respecting them, and gathering 
various baskets and reticules under the wings of our 
cloaks, we contrived to let ourselves down, and 
these " careful comforts," without accident, into the 
boat, that lay wabbling and tumbling about, and 
playing at a sort of new bob-cherry with our feet, 
always jumping itself away whenever we attempted, 
not to get it into our mouths, as in old-established 
bob-cherry, but to plant our steps upon its planks. 

Pretty enough are these Madeira boats, which 
were seen skimming about around us ; they have 
lofty, pointed stems, and brilliantly-painted bows, 
a vast eye looking out of each, unwinking and 
unsleeping ; while often, within, the sleepy lids of the 
men tell a very different tale. If the eyes were not 
delineated there, in their place would be a gay 
bouquet of various flowers, bathed in the sharp dew 
of the salt-sea spray. As at Naples, Venice, and 
many other places, the men stand to row (with their 
faces turned towards the stern of the boat), and 
often gracefully too. 

There are various scattered dwellings on the 
side of the mountain, and their delicate propor- 
tions, as compared with the huge hill on which 
they are situated, have a curious effect to the 
eye, before it becomes habituated to the scene. 
You might easily fancy sprites and mites, midges 
and gnomes, inhabiting these diminutive dwell- 
ings. Trees, looking the size of toothpicks ; cu- 
polas, the dimensions of thimbles ; and rivers 
like fine white threads, diversified the scene. 
Does some elfin admirer of Nature live in yonder 



REALISATIONS OF LILLIPUT, 



219 



homoeopathic allowance of a habitation? — does some 
hectic valetudinarian of a fairy take up his or her 
fragile abode in that tiny pocket-palace, glimmering 
white in the sunshine, amid pins'-points of groves 
of lilliputian chestnuts ? Has a microscopical mite 
of an amateur artist established himself in that ro- 
mantic little ravine, where a pigmy villa on a patch 
of verdure is with difficulty descried? — or does a 
diamond edition of an Esculapius, residing in yon 
miniature of a nutshell, kill or cure those wee motes 
in the sunbeam ? (If he proceed on the plan of giving 
them the smallest possible doses of medicine, so much 
in favour in some quarters now, according to our 
notions of proportion what animalculse could be 
found tiny enough to mix the pills ? It is difficult 
to fine down our ideas so far, really.) Or does a two- 
inch-and-a-half-hop-of-my-thumb of a hermit se- 
quester himself in yon delicate hut, with a beauty-spot 
of a garden, that may perhaps boast of one chamber 
of a foot in length, and eight-and-three-quarter inches 
high? What can be the infinitesimal inhabitants 
of that smallest of hamlets ? — are they, peradven- 
ture, gregarious sprites, copying human beings, 
having built themselves a village that you might 
surely cover over with a good-sized cabbage-leaf? 
And what is that globule in the midst of those little 
grains of houses ? It looks like the dome of a fairy 
church ! Does some agricultural elf rent that atom 
of a farm yonder, or a misanthropic doll dwell in yon 
airy houselet — a bead of a baby-house, indeed — of 
which, surely, ants were the architects and builders ? 
We advance nearer; the houses and cots look a 
little larger, — a number of diminutive beings are 
gathered together, we observe, in one spot ; perhaps 
there is a miniature market there. What an assem- 



220 



FUNCHAL. 



blage of the tiniest of Tom Thumbs ; what a swell- 
mob of mites ; they would fill a leaf to overflowing. 
Those above them on the mountain, however, are of 
much less proportions. A few animated atoms are 
wandering about there. It is curious to watch them. 
One dot meets two or three other dots ; they stop, 
doubtless to hold a wee conversation. It must be 
a very slight " thread of discourse." If they ever 
warble, how small they must sing ! Can these dots 
live, think, feel, hope, hate, love ? Can these dots 
die, and live for ever, eternally surviving the huge 
hills that contrast so with their puny size ? Do you 
see that poor, sick, invalided dot, striving evidently to 
climb with lame pace up the acclivity — quite a dot- 
and-go-one? Perhaps its thoughts are out-flying 
the eagle at this moment ! These dots and dabs all 
seem to go on amicably together ; a new pair of par- 
ticles appear, they join the rest ; . . . . but enough, — 
little enough is all this. Yet, perhaps, it may be 
too much. 

Landing at TYmchal is not a very easy or agreeable 
operation. Those accustomed to the charming faci- 
lities of our own ports will be wofully disappointed 
here. When the weather is bad, this disagreeable 
business generally takes place under the shelter of the 
Loo Rock ; then looking brightly out for the favour- 
able upward swell of the water, the proper moment 
is seized carefully by prudent voyagers, to deposit 
whatever is most precious to them on shore, whether 
their portmanteaus, themselves, their writing-desks, 
(with needful cash inside,) or "Best London Sauce,' ' 
or their cigar cases, or even perhaps their wives. In 
short, after thus adroitly managing first to land what 
is most valuable to you, and then yourself (if, indeed, 
the last is not the first — this sounds like a riddle, 



DEXTERITY OE THE BOATMEN. 



221 



but is probably a most plain and simple truth), you 
ascend a flight of stairs, and then reach a plat- 
form, — or bridge or ridge that connects the Loo 
Rock with the beach. I believe this landing at 
the Pontinho is more often necessary for passengers 
coming by the Brazilian steam -packets than by 
other means. They have only, I understand, a 
short stated time to stay, and those who want to 
land are obliged to go as soon as possible, let the 
weather be what it may. 

When, in good weather, sailing-packets can come 
to anchor, the landing is effected with much celerity 
and comfort ; and good weather is the rule, perhaps, 
here, and bad the exception. Madeira boatmen are 
noted for their dexterity in managing to land their 
human cargoes in good repair, and without any 
damage from damp ; so that the ringlets of the 
ladies and the shirt -collars of the gentlemen are 
seldom limp or disturbed from their stiff propriety. 
There may be a heavy swell, causing a good deal of 
boiling surf and foam along the beach, but the 
human "heavy swell," or the fair "damosel," " whiter 
than the foam " itself, will be landed intact ; so hard 
work the adroit boatmen in the sublime cause of 
corkscrew ringlets and well-starched gills. 

When close to the shore, the little bark is turned 
with its stern to the beach, and the men take the 
opportunity, when a big wave comes hurrying in, to 
back the boat upon its whitened, hissing crest, until 
it meets the pebbly beach ; then they jump out, 
and, aided by some of their comrades on land, they 
generally contrive to drag the boatie, passengers, 
pickles, portmanteaus, passport-cases, wives, and 
cigars, and all, safe and dry to the shore. Let no 
overweening anxiety for a lot of deeply-cherished 



222 % 



A DRENCHING SHOWER, 



Havanas, or haply a jar of pickled cabbages, or 
possibly for the sketching-portfolio of your bosom, 
induce you rashly to anticipate the right moment, 
and, without awaiting the signal of your faithful 
rowers, to put forth the feet of impatience, and 
project the nose of sudden determination and chin 
of over-active energy. As sure as you act this 
injudicious part, driven by a passionate love for the 
weed, or, it may be, the wardrobe, so sure do you 
pop that chin into weeds far less desirable, and dip 
those feet in the drenching w T ave, and bob that 
blameless nose against the shingles, besides giving 
the darlings of boxes or cases you carry in your 
arms, whatever the case may be (or perhaps it may 
be a puppy- dog, or a perigord-pie, or a periw T ig in 
a band-box), — a very disagreeable ducking. Bide 
your time, then, till the more experienced mariners 
tell you to step on shore. Very often the sea is 
like glass, and you may quietly hop on to the beach 
without being dragged thus up in the little craft, 
like fish in a net. 

Palanquins and horses are usually to be found 
close by, waiting to be hired by the freshly-arrived 
visitors to the island ; but it rained very heavily, 
(ah ! deceitful, honey-tongued, flattering, false, blue 
sky !) and they were absolutely, indispensably 
necessary, and, therefore, of course they were not 
there. Some traces, some footsteps of them, indeed, 
there might be to be seen ; but for themselves, they 
had melted away at the first drop of the shower 
like lumps of Portuguese sugar — (which dissolve 
with remarkable rapidity, be it said en passant), 
and we sought them in vain. 

The civil, obliging master of the English hotel 
that we were going to (Mr. Miles), was on the beach, 



AND NO CONVEYANCE. 



223 



and he offered to send immediately for a palanquin 
to the town ; but as we felt we must infallibly be 
quite wet before it could arrive, and it would 
involve much more risk of cold-catching, if such 
a phenomenon as a cold were to be caught here, 
to sit in it in a drowned-rat condition, than to walk 
steadily on, we declined the proffer, and we plashed 
on over the rain-soaked ground, meditating some- 
what disparagingly on the much-vaunted climate of 
Madeira : very unjustly, perhaps ; for as one swallow 
does not make a summer, neither does one shower 
make a winter, no, nor yet a copy of that worse 
than winter — an English spring ; which, by the 
way, we cannot even say, as some great authority 
said of a cold spring somewhere else, "is like a 
winter painted green :" little green has ours to boast 
of generally : but then we did not know that this 
same shower might prove thus a solitary example — 
(and, indeed, it was followed by many others), — 
and that this present hibernal season of Madeira 
might be designated as a single-dorm winter. 

How heartily it rained ! It seemed as if the 
weather was making up for a long abstinence from 
such practices, as a pledge-breaking teetotaller might 
be supposed to ply the cup lustily. Compared 
with other rains in other places, it was the furious 
crying of a vexed child contrasted with the more 
steady flow of grief of a grown person. The poor 
banana-leaves each poured down a little secondary 
shower of their own from their drooping points ; 
the cypresses shed abundant floods of tears over the 
graves in the lovely, lonely cemetery ; — all seemed 
to be vehemently weeping and wailing, and to be 
unaccustomed so to do ; and you either fancied it, 
or there really w^as, a strange incongruity in the 



224 



EXPECTATIONS DAMPED* 



appearance, so June-like looked all around us, save 
the watery downfall. Yet there are summer- 
storms, certainly, everywhere — save at Lima, per- 
haps ; — but this seemed very wintry indeed while 
it lasted, perhaps from its violent contrast with the 
extreme summeriness of the scene just before pre- 
sented, and even then partially to be remarked. Still 
you felt it was only skin-deep, and that the gloomy 
shower merely extended to a very trifling distance. 

Let us step out of this little cloud, like the 
mythological divinities in the " Iliad," and we shall 
find the earth dry, hot, shining, golden, with the 
sun again. Nature, at that moment, and in that 
place, seemed like the actor, who, playing the parts 
of Othello and Iago together, blackened only one 
side of his face, and so could turn instantaneously, 
as circumstances required, the fitting side to the 
audiences. She was acting Othello just then for 
us. We met some dripping palanquins, which, to 
our rather depressed imaginations, looked dismal, 
with their inmates extended at full length, and 
made one think a little of coffins ; and the thought 
was increased by the knowledge one had of the 
many sick and dying here ; and, certainly, a fresh 
place seems more gloomy seen thus disadvantage- 
ously than a well-known one ; the features so unfa- 
miliar to us, require to be lighted up to welcome 
us a little, or else they strike us as hard and for- 
bidding. 

Was this the place Captain Marry at had 
written so eloquently about ? " Perhaps he " (the 
traveller) " has left England in the gloomy close of 
autumn, or the frigid concentration of an English 

winter When he lands on the island, 

what a change ! Winter has become summer ; the 



tc IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS." 225 

naked trees which he left are exchanged for the 
luxuriant and varied foliage ; snow and frost for 
warmth and splendour ; the scenery of the tempe- 
rate zone for the profusion and magnificence of the 
tropics ; — a bright blue sky, a glowing sun, hills 
covered with vines, a deep blue sea, a picturesque 
and varied costume," &c. Certainly the last, — 
at least we observed an extraordinary diversity of 
apparel, and in some cases a great variety and no- 
velty in the mode of wearing it, — for those we 
met, if females, had sheltered themselves under a 
petticoat roof, looking like so many two-legged 
globes moving about; and if males, they were in- 
describable anomalies, — jackets on the head, ragged 
shreds of mats about their throats, potato-sacks or 
bits of old sail-cloth round the body, and horse-rugs 
or fishing-nets over their shoulders ; anything that 
came to hand to guard against the rare visitation. 

Madeira, however, before we went, redeemed 
her fair character with us, and fully justified Cap- 
tain Marryat's description. At last — for we walked 
slowly along under the weight of our saturated 
cloaks, drenched with the rain, and heavy with mud, 
— we reached the town, and soon arrived at the com- 
fortable, nice hotel, without any other adventures 
and annoyances than nearly walking over some 
waggons or sledges, and my actually running 
against some yoked oxen (the almost blinding rain 
beating in our eyes distracted the attention), which 
last seemed highly indignant and greatly dispored 
to return the compliment, and my also receiving a 
rather heavy kick from one of their comrades, who 
thought our party was encroaching too much on 
his path, and who was not particularly mild -tem- 
pered. 

Q 



226 



PLEASANT ACQUAINTANCES. 



We found, much to our dismay, all the best 
accommodations in the hotel had been already se- 
cured, but Dr. and Mrs. C, whose acquaintance 
we had made on board the packet, most kindly 
invited us into their room. As they are both very 
agreeable persons, we passed a pleasant hour with 
them : they informed me they were only going to 
remain a day or two in the hotel, and then should 
take a house ; so we made an arrangement about 
the apartments which suited both parties. 



MADEIRA. 



227 



CHAPTER IX. 

We had rain for about four days after our arrival 
at Madeira, yet it was charmingly warm, and the 
air balmy and pleasant. To console us, too, we 
had a lovely view from our windows. Our agree- 
able and accomplished friends, Dr. and Mrs. C, 
remained four or five days in the hotel, and we saw 
a good deal of Mrs. C, whose society we found 
delightful. Altogether our four rainy days passed 
right quickly, and afterwards the weather became 
exquisitely delicious. 

Our drawing-room in the hotel looked into a 
street; but our bed-rooms had a charming pro- 
spect of the mountains behind the town, and of 
some exceedingly pretty, trellised, terraced, tur- 
reted, and balconied, and belvedered houses, with 
very little gardens filled with very large bananas, 
besides orange-trees, and various plants and flowers. 
All the gardens, however, were not thus small, but 
such broad-leaved, magnificent occupants, had the 
effect of dwarfing them somewhat. 

The street, too, was far from a dull one, and we 
were much amused occasionally in looking out of 
the window, and watching from the balcony the 
passers-by; — now would come lumbering along a 
heavy bullock-sledge, with a huge load, the usually 
quiet and tractable animals moving on in their 



228 



AN AMUSING LOOK-OUT. 



peculiarly patient, plodding manner ; while their 
drivers, whose lungs seem to have benefited from 
the mild, equable, chest -invigorating air of their 
native island, would be making the street ring with 
their reiterated cries of — " Ca para, mim hoi; 
ca — ca — ca — ca — od/" (" Come to me, my 
oxen ; come — come !") They are not contented 
with vociferating at the poor, docile, hardworking 
brutes, but they urge them but too sharply with 
their horrid, abominable goads. A shrill -voiced 
boy generally accompanies the more mature bullock- 
driver, and this urchin helps to do the hallooing, 
and screeches besides, incessantly, for his own 
especial delight apparently, with all his might and 
main. His ear-piercing treble aids the thundering, 
bellowing bass, in half-deafening you, and seems 
like a fife accompanying the double-double drum. 
The sledge-driver, in addition to his pointed goad, 
is armed with a wetted cloth, which is at intervals 
dropped carefully under the sledge, to prevent its 
getting heated, and to make it run with ease along 
the pavement of the street. 

After the rumbling, ponderous sledges, and their 
roaring, noisy drivers, come a gay party on horse- 
back, — gentle English ladies, speaking softly and 
smiling sweetly, with plumed riding-hats and close- 
fitting polka jackets. They, surely, are not con- 
sumptive patients, looking as they do the picture 
of health and enjoyment? A voice whispers, "They 
were ; but, thanks to this climate, they are so no 
longer." 

Next come a party of little children, in a sort 
of family palanquin, going to some juvenile party, 
with white shoes and transparent -looking, snowy 
frocks, and with their hair coquettishly adjusted, 



JUVENILE COSTUMES. 



229 



and plentifully besprinkled with geraniums and 
other flowers. Another set come toddling down 
the street, putting their little, dancing-pump-shod 
feet down gingerly on the pebbly, hard pavement, 
and looking like minute opera-dancers, with their 
short and very full skirts. 

Look at those two white round balls rolling 
down the street ; they approach nearer ; they look 
like young balloons, crowned with light wreaths of 
flowers, or rather like little birds of Paradise, caught 
in great circular muslin cages. There must be a 
native child's dance to-night ; and the precious dar- 
lings go tripping along in full fig, with their pretty 
uncovered heads and uncloaked forms, making the 
street bright as they pass. No occasion here for 
careful mammas to wrap the small shawl round the 
fay-like figure, or tie a handkerchief under the 
dimpled chin, and about the slender-rounded throat. 

Next comes an extraordinary -looking vehicle, 
drawn by a pair of stately bullocks, whose place 
seems, at the first glance, as if it should be within 
and not outside the fabric that follows them ; for 
it a little suggests the idea of a small Noah's ark 
with the roof taken off. 

However, on closer inspection this curiosity of 
coachmaking rather improves : it seems a mixture 
of char-a-banc, barouche, triumphal car, washing- 
tub, sledge, dray, dust-cart, artillery- waggon, cara- 
van, wheelbarrow, whale-boat, hearse, omnibus, 
vat, van, and merry-go-round. It contains, ap- 
parently, two or three families. I believe it 
belongs to some foreign merchant established 
here. It must require patience, indeed, to sit 
behind those* plodding, slow oxen : you watch 
the nondescript conveyance, not unlike a gigantic 



230 



COUNTRY COSTUMES. 



snail-shell following in a funeral procession of one 
of the horned and slimy tribe, and before you can 
discern positively that it is verily moving, — with a 
vast deal of bustle and of exertion, — it is actually 
got a little out of the way, for it has to make room 
in the narrow street for a gay equipage, which, whirled 
along by two spirited horses, flashes by, driven by a 
smart gentleman, who might pass muster in Hyde 
Park. His carriage is something like a phaeton, 
with a dash of the curricle, I think. The gentleman, 
I understand, is a native of the island — the Mirror 
of all Madeira fashion — the Brummel of Funchal. 

Next come a company of peasants from the 
country : let us describe the group. One or two of 
them are handsome-looking people, who make a 
favourable impression even in their curious head- 
dress ; bedecked with which, let me observe, the 
wearer requires considerable beauty not to be very 
ugly. When it is placed above a good-looking 
physiognomy and well-formed head, however, it is 
as picturesque as it is striking. This head-dress is 
very peculiar : it is a sort of black funnel-shaped 
cap, with a long narrow peak, often worn so that it 
projects as if out of the forehead. 

Sometimes when you meet these Madeira pea- 
sants, and the cap I have described is pulled much 
over the brows, the point looks almost as if they 
had a sharp black arrow sticking in their fore- 
heads : this head-gear is called the " carapu9a." 
The slender peak is frequently worn inclining 
gracefully enough to the right side. When placed 
straight forward, it reminds one a little of the 
weapon protruding from the broad front of a war- 
horse of the olden times, or a unicern's horn in 
mourning. These islanders are thus " armed cap,'' 



COMPARISONS ARE ODIOUS. 



231 



if not " cap-a-pie." This singular head-dress and 
yellow boots are indiscriminately worn by both 
sexes. As I said before, on the good-looking ones 
this spiked or barbed cap appears exceedingly pic- 
turesque, and is really becoming, and it gives an 
arch, piquant air, to the countenance ; but it has a 
very different effect upon the homely. 

There stands an exemplification of my assertion 
in the corner of the street, in the shape of a rather 
loutish-looking youth, with a pepper-and-salt com- 
plexion, a bit of a nose like a little patch of putty, 
and two boiled gooseberries of eyes. He is certainly 
no beauty; and that trying carapuca makes him 
frightful. If he intends his face to be his fortune, 
that cap will not play the part of Fortunatus' cap for 
him, by enhancing his charms of countenance : quite 
the reverse, poor lad ! — That saucy-looking damsel, 
with a high-reared pile of empty baskets on her head 
(the contents of which she has sold well, to judge 
by her pleased looks), appears to share my opinion, 
for she bestows but a glance of scorn on the poor 
ill-favoured youth, as she passes on to join the group 
who are discussing the news of the day in the middle 
of the street. As the phaeton I have mentioned 
before is, I am told, the only carriage propelled by 
horses in the island, they had not much fear of 
being run over ; and it is easy indeed to get out 
of the way of the deliberate, slow-moving oxen. 
How pretty is that other shy-looking maiden, with 
the peak so coquettishly placed on one side, but pro- 
jecting far from her smooth forehead ! That sable 
dart — is it swathed in crape for the deaths it is 
about to inflict ? — will pierce many a youthful heart. 

How picturesque the gentle nymph looks in her 
linsey-woolsey petticoat, manufactured in Madeira, 



232 



" ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, 



with its broad gay stripes of colour, and her baize 
cape, of a deep cherry tint, or a bright azure, bor- 
dered round with an edging of some brilliant dye ; 
and with her pale yellow boots. 

The swarthy young peasant to whom she is 
talking, too, is a good specimen of a smart Madeirese. 
His shirt is confined at the throat with golden studs ; 
he has a waistcoat of a variety of striking hues, — 
probably kept for state occasions, such as a visit to 
Eunchal ; a pair of loose linen trousers ; a short 
jacket, negligently and gracefully flung over his 
left shoulder (but I suspect he took a little time 
in tossing it there quite carelessly, like an im- 
promptu/ait a loisir) ; and the carapu9a, put on 
with much address and taste. 

In his hand you see a stick of considerable 
length : this stick the mountaineers carry with them, 
to assist them in clambering up the precipitous 
steeps and lofty rocks. It is an adjunct by no 
means to be despised. Like the pole of the cha- 
mois-hunter of the Alps, it is almost an inseparable 
companion of those islanders who dwell among the 
hills. 

Now advance some poor, whining mendicants, 
clad, one should imagine, in the last shreds and 
patches of a suit of sticking-plaster, for on any 
other supposition it would be difficult indeed to 
conceive how these few wretched grimy rags and 
dingy remnants can adhere to their persons. The 
better, I suppose, to excite compassion, a tottering 
infant is made the mouthpiece of this famished 
group, thus clothed in the merest beauty-spots, 
(were not court-plaister patches so termed by belles 
of yore?) " Dez reisinhos pelo amor de Deos!" 
pleads the shrill infantine voice. 



ALL THE MEN AND WOMEN MERELY PLAYERS." 233 

And now evening approaches, and the tinkling 
sounds of the " machete " are heard at the end of 
the street. A large party come on, half dancing, 
half gliding along, to the tune the instrument is 
playing. This party appear to be a group of the 
peasantry returning home from some merry-making 
with their city friends. The " machete," or " mache- 
tinho," belongs particularly to Madeira, and is not 
very unlike the banjo that the negroes play in 
: America : it is, in fact, a little unpretending guitar. 
The machete has four catgut strings, which are 
tuned in thirds, except the two lower ones, which, 
I believe, have an interval of a fourth. The gene- 
rality of their island music is merely a succession of 
very simple chords ; but this little instrument is 
said to boast of much higher capabilities when 
played by a masterly hand, and the most brilliant 
waltzes and mazurkas of the best German com- 
posers may be skilfully rendered on this toy-like 
instrument. 

Besides this, the Spanish guitar is in vogue in the 
island — they call it, I fancy, " viola Fran cesa;" then 
there are the " guitarra," with six double wires — a 
rather formidable affair ; and the " rabeca" (like a 
violin). Musically speaking, the natives of Madeira 
have some taste and skill ; but it is remarked by 
those who knew them of old, that the political fluc- 
tuations and disquietudes that affrighted this little 
isle from its propriety have affected its internal har- 
mony and love for external harmony together. 

The natives have, I am told, some beautiful 
vocal national melodies, called "modinhas;" but 
among the lower classes the singing is of a very 
inferior order indeed, and a little such as Mesdames 
Screech-owl and Peacock, and Messieurs Hyena and 



234 



MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 



Jackal, might treat us to, without any guitar accom- 
paniment whatsoever. 

The performer, who appears to wish to be dis- 
tinctly heard at the highest summit of Teneriffe, 
begins screeching at the very tip-top of his voice ; 
and then, after keeping that voice as long as possible 
on tip-toes — as a ballet-dancer so frequently does 
her person — without taking breath, down he comes 
to the bottom of the scale, as rapidly and gladly 
as that fair lady in the song descended the ladder 
of ropes, full of fears and of hopes, determined on 
running off with a gallant suitor, and leaving 
another disappointed admirer in the lurch ; — (who, 
in that amusing " chanson," protests in the most 
scornful of bars, with an appogiatura bordering on 
antipathy and a little flourish of harmonious hate, 
and two or three semiquavers quivering with 
spite, and various trills and warbles of the most 
ungracious, affected nonchalance, and several mighty 
great shakes, that the lady is no great shakes, 
and may, in fact, go to Hong Kong for him, — the 
grapes evidently being very sour indeed, and the 
gentleman within an inch of popping down from 
the Monument, or into the Thames, — only it looks 
so dirty ; how is he ever to get clean again when he 
is rescued ?) But to return to our songsters. 

This shrieking sort of ditty may be constantly 
heard in the streets of Funchal ; and when it by 
chance clashes with the yells of the bullock-sledge 
drivers, a lively idea may be formed of what sounds 
might proceed from a menagerie of wild beasts, if 
let loose at feeding-time in some alley most pleas- 
ingly lined with tempting butchers' shops, but each 
shop guarded by iron railings. We hear a great 
deal, and see a great deal, that is amusing and cha- 



SUDS AND SCENERY. 



235 



racteristic, Mr. Miles's hotel being situated in the 
principal street. 

Walking out one day, I was diverted at seeing 
the washerwomen pummelling with much ferocity 
the linen delivered over to their tender care. I 
was sauntering beside one of the rivers that flow 
through Funchal (there being three altogether that 
intersect the little capital), and beneath the over- 
shadowing branches of numerous large plane-trees 
that adorned its raised, pleasant banks, I saw as- 
sembled a considerable body of those above-men- 
tioned savage tormentors of shirts and destroyers 
of bibs and tuckers. 

You would have thought they must have had 
some violent spite against the owners of these 
articles, and were giving a vent to their vengeful 
feelings by thumping and belabouring their inno- 
cent linen and unconscious calicoes. They ham- 
mered and chattered with about equal vehemence, 
which is saying a very great deal for the capa- 
bilities of their tongues. They make the linen 
brilliantly white, however, and it gleams in dazzling 
purity when laid out to dry in the sun, beside 
some rock, against which erewhile they had beaten 
and dashed all the unhappy articles with frantic 
energy, till they looked like wild snow-storms, or 
foamy waves of mad cotton, melted by some mys- 
tic means, and driven by the tempest on the craggy 
coast, or till they were apparently resolved into the 
very soap-suds they had so lately emerged from ! 

I was amused at a young budding washerwoman, 
of perhaps four summers, aping most successfully 
all the murderous actions of her seniors, and ham- 
mering pocket-handkerchiefs and helpless cuffs 
with a desperate fury; her childish face red and 



23G 



A DREADPUL FLOOD 



distorted with the superinfantine exertions. The 
spot where this violent little scene was taking place 
was a very pretty one, near a curions-looking large 
house, built, I believe, by Mr. Veitch, the late 
British Consul. This residence seemed to boast 
an enchanting garden, and to be a considerable 
mansion. From its rather lofty towers the view, I 
think, must be very fine. 

The rivers that pass through the town are usually 
dried up in the summer ; but in the autumn they 
flow down after the abundant rains, for brief in- 
tervals, with vast impetuosity and rapidity. They 
have not unfrequently carried away bridges in their 
course, and overflowed the lower parts of this small 
metropolis. At these times they often bring down 
with their discoloured waters huge boulder-stones 
from the rocks. 

In 1803, in the month of October, a fearful flood 
took place here : between three and four hundred 
persons perished; and the loss of property, com- 
paratively speaking, was immense. Since that time 
the rivers have been guarded by exceedingly strong 
stone walls, and such disasters are no more, I 
should hope, to be apprehended. When the floods 
take place now, the wild, impetuous, shining pri- 
soners, dash themselves vainly against the bars of 
their stone cage. 

The misfortune I allude to occurred after a 
particularly dry season, the beds of the rivers 
having been left almost without a drop of water. 
Suddenly a pouring rain began, and continued for 
some time without intermission, and ere very long, 
so violent was the downfall, the river Nossa Sen- 
hora do Calhao was swollen to a terrific torrent, 
whose foaming floods dashed the bridges in pieces, 



AND ITS DISASTROUS RESULTS. 237 

leaving at last only one standing, upon which a 
public functionary had erected his own habitation. 
Many houses, too, with their unfortunate inhabi- 
tants, uselessly clamouring for aid, were swept 
down. The miserable sufferers could not be res- 
cued. Still the rain poured on. It being now 
night-time, and fearfully dark, the peril and con- 
sternation were proportionately increased. There 
was no time to get ladders and drag the poor 
wretches out of the upper windows, where they 
had stationed themselves ; and the lower portions 
of their habitations being inundated, the doors 
could not be opened : but a brief period elapsed 
before the walls gave way. 

It is asserted that a house, with all its inmates 
(who could not be extricated), was carried into the 
sea, and that it remained distinctly visible, appa- 
rently quite entire, with the candles glimmering in 
the windows of the wooden upper story — where the 
unhappy people had sought refuge — for several 
minutes. 

After this deplorable calamity, the priests 
declared that, according to their confession -lists, 
the missing numbered about three hundred and 
twenty persons ; but it was supposed the loss 
was far more considerable. The greatest damage 
occurred in a part of Funchal w 7 here congregated 
chiefly the sailors and watermen, — many of the 
former belonging to different nations, as it was 
during the period of the war, — and a number 
of disreputable and low persons of both sexes, such 
as were most unlikely to be in the confession-lists 
of the good fathers ; thus it is by many supposed 
that four hundred lives, at least, fell a sacrifice 
to this lamentable calamity. A church, dedicated 



238 



APPEARANCES AFTER THE EL00D. 



to Nossa Senhora do Calhao, was, like the house I 
have alluded to, borne out to sea. This was not 
far from the mouth of the river. 

The unhappy inhabitants, many of whom, in 
their dense ignorance, look upon their island, some- 
what naturally, as the entire world, believed the 
hour of the final dissolution of Nature was rapidly 
approaching, and they remained paralysed with fear 
for a length of time, offering no assistance to their 
fellows, and not attempting to make any exertion 
to save themselves. However, the townsmen, 
when they began a little to recover from their first 
stupefaction and panic, hoped to find a refuge 
among the heights and peaks. Thus, from Fun- 
dial the dismayed citizens fled in crowds. But 
they were doomed to disappointment. As they 
hastened towards the country, they met swarms of 
the peasantry, with horror and alarm in their counte- 
nances, hurrying into the town they were quitting, 
flying from scenes of similar desolation and danger. 
At one moment were to be seen whole groups, 
rushing along like maniacs, bearing torches in 
their hands, but in their wild excitement and 
anguish running into the very perils they sought 
to escape from, and endangering their own lives 
and those of others in their unbounded terror ; at 
other times, numbers hurried simultaneously from 
their unsafe abodes, scouring distractedly about in 
the hideous darkness, and tumbling over each 
other ; while, before long, the streets were crowded 
with human bodies and ruins, and quantities of 
dead sheep, dogs, oxen, and other animals. 

Piles of corpses afterwards lay exposed at the 
doors of the churches, that the survivors might 
recognise and claim them ; and these melancholy 



SMALLNESS OF THE PRESENT STREAM. 239 

heaps continued fast accumulating for some time. 
It was thought that amongst them many might 
have recovered, had proper expedients been re- 
sorted to for their restoration ; but such was the 
universal dismay and agonised apprehension, that 
they were forsaken and left to perish. Orders 
were afterwards given for all those dreadful heaps 
to be burned, and it was found imperatively 
necessary to fumigate the streets subsequently to 
the execution of these commands — a vast quantity 
of pitch and tar being consumed for that pur- 
pose. 

By many it was imagined that a water-spout must 
have burst on that occasion, as the rain, although so 
continuous and violent, could hardly have produced 
such fearful results. Considerable tracts of ground 
were said to be broken up in certain parts of the 
island, and in others it appeared as if large portions 
of earth or rock had been swept away violently. 
October, in 1842, witnessed another catastrophe 
of the same nature, and the mischief was effected by 
the instrumentality of the same river, that now pro- 
ceeds along so pleasantly and meekly between its 
secure walls, with its running accompaniment of 
ripple to the rattle of washerwomen's voluble tongues, 
and so humble, shy, and tiny, that you might think 
butter would hardly melt in its mouth, — where it 
debouches so diminutively into the jaws of that great 
ogre of an ocean ; it must be a very little pat, really, 
of the softest butter — such a timid, shrinking rill 
as it is, gliding coyly along, like a young river in 
its teens. It afforded a very different spectacle, 
however, in that month of October, 1842. The 
poor, little, modest stream, seemed to have gone 
raving mad, and appeared sorely to need that 



240 



AWFUL APPEARANCES. 



strait-waistcoat of good strong granite which now 
confines it. 

Then the rushing, roaring water, went howling 
furiously along, and yelling for its prey. The ad- 
joining streets were soon three feet deep in water; 
miserable creatures were to be seen struggling 
with difficulty onwards, and wading through the 
momently-augmenting stream, horror in their coun- 
tenances, and despair in the tone of their loudly- 
wailing voices. Soon the bridge was destroyed and 
scattered into pieces ; its fragments were carried off, 
as if in triumph, by the foaming torrent, as though 
they had been but leaves and boughs of trees. 

Down with the wrathful, raging waters, rolled 
vast numbers of large rocks, torn up like the 
merest weeds from their foundation, and thun- 
dering hoarsely along, amid the sweeping, sounding 
currents, that foamed by with appalling velocity; 
in the mean time the ground seemed trembling as 
with the concussions of an earthquake, as the river 
thus tore its ruinous way onward, dashing its then 
fragile barriers to destruction, the while its loud roar 
was echoed by the piteous yells for help, the groans 
and supplications of men, women, and children, 
now tearing their hair in hopeless anguish, and now 
shrieking out prayers to the Virgin. 

The preceding summer had been exceedingly 
hot ; hardly a shower had fallen, but the mountains 
were enveloped in clouds in the middle of October. 
Soon startling peals of thunder were heard, and 
down came the rain in overwhelming torrents, con- 
tinuing unintermittingly for about eight or nine 
days. 

On the 24th of October, the island at noon 
appeared as if WTapped in the darkness of an almost 



DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY. 



241 



total eclipse. There was a smell of sulphur — of more 
than Mephistophilesian strength — the air seemed 
stifling and heavy ; the wind changed wildly about to 
almost every point of the compass ; the barometer, 
too, fell very much. There had been a partial cessa- 
tion of the rain, but it began to pour down again 
soon with equal heaviness, and after an alarming 
continuance of the storm the sea seemed disturbed, 
and was observed to rise and heave, under a thick 
canopy of threatening clouds that hung over the 
bay. 

Some entertained the horrible apprehension that 
the deep would engulf the whole town in its me- 
nacing, swelling waters ; but after presenting this 
strange appearance for ten or twelve minutes it 
gradually subsided, the huge black mass of clouds, 
that seemed to portend a deluge, was seen to rise 
higher, and, it was thought, was carried by the wind 
to the mountains, and there it probably burst. In- 
deed, after-events established this fact satisfactorily. 

During the time of the greatest alarm and con- 
fusion at Funchal, the poor inhabitants had in many 
cases made their escape successfully, by scrambling 
over the roofs of the houses. More than two hun- 
dred habitations were entirely demolished or irre- 
parably injured. An amazing amount of property 
in corn and wine, and other things, was destroyed 
at this time. The body of water forced open the 
wine-lodges, and out streamed their costly contents. 
Wine was literally running in the streets, as at 
the marriage of our Henry VIII. with fair Mistress 
Anne Boleyn ; but it was mixed with the foaming 
floods, and very weak wine-and-water in fact it 
proved. A vast deal, too, was carried off to 
the sea for old Neptune's private consumption. 

R 



242 



NEW TERRORS. 



However, it was necessary to make careful arrange- 
ments to prevent people becoming intoxicated, for 
many of the casks were not injured, and were lying 
about in the streets when the body of water subsided. 
Rather tempting to those, unhappily, who had lost all 
they possessed, and having narrowly escaped drown- 
ing themselves, not unnaturally wished to drown 
their cares, poor souls. Part of a fortified building 
and a fruit- market were completely carried away, 
and also the entrance to the Praca Academica. 
During the night a good deal of rain continued to 
fall ; however, a favourable change had providentially 
taken place, the floods were gradually abating, the 
weather perceptibly moderating, and soon a strong 
breeze blew from the south-east. The municipal 
authorities and the Governor exerted themselves to 
restore order; the houseless poor were accommo- 
dated with a temporary shelter in forts and public 
buildings, and food was given them to satisfy the 
pangs of hunger. 

Numerous depredations occurred, for the un- 
principled and dissolute could not resist the tempta- 
tion of long rows of deserted houses, with no one 
to guard or w T atch them. On the following day 
there was a frightful hurricane. The poor little 
city of Funchal seemed doomed to destruction of 
some kind. The wind had gone round to the 
south, and blew most furiously. Again were fear 
and dreadful agitation depicted in the countenances 
of the ill-starred town's-people, who felt as if they 
were but rescued from one appalling danger to be 
exposed to another. The sea appeared to threaten 
the entire demolition of the unfortunate town ; it 
burst madly over the beach, and rushed with hideous 
noise into the lower portions of the city. 



LOSSES AT SEA. 



243 



The inhabitants gave themselves up for lost ; it 
seemed in vain to attempt to straggle longer with 
their fate, and their attempts at escape were feeble, 
and often, probably, ill-directed. They remained for 
a length of time in the most dreadful and agonising- 
suspense and trepidation. Their situation, indeed, 
was a deplorable one. In the bay, six vessels were 
at anchor, — escape seemed utterly impossible for 
them by making sail ; the boiling billows were 
sweeping violently towards the shore, the wind dead 
in. One unfortunate vessel, that dragged her an- 
chors, struck on the rocks and was lost, and all 
her crew perished. This was a Sardinian schooner. 
A Portuguese schooner was also lost, with four of 
the hands on board ; the rest escaped. 

An American brig and an English schooner also - 
came on shore, but their crews were saved. The 
crew of an English brig, too, called the " Dart," were 
saved. A vessel that was driven in the direction 
of the Loo Rock was preserved, and this was in 
consequence of the very deep water in the close 
neighbourhood of that rock, and the back surge, 
which prevented her from striking on that perilous 
place. The next morning she was enabled to quit 
the roadstead in all safety, as the wind most for- 
tunately changed to the south-west. 



244 



FUNCHAL. 



CHAPTER X. 

The Praca da Rainha, which is carried along 
the margin of the blue deep, the Praca Academica, 
and the Praca da Cons tit uicad, just before the 
Cathedral, are all agreeable places for recreation 
and exercise, and are pleasant promenades for those 
» who are not strong and well enough to venture 
much farther. 

Noble trees overhang these walks, and seats 
are to be found there, on which the invalid may 
take needful repose, and inhale the balmy air for a 
while, without the fear of fatiguing himself by pro- 
longed exertion. Occasionally, I believe, a military 
band performs on these promenades, which must 
prove a great addition to their attraction. English 
and natives here mingle pretty sociably ; news is 
circulated ; civil recognitions exchanged ; cigars 
puffed ; the latest fashions displayed ; the newly- 
arrived visitors to the island criticised, perchance ; 
and future expeditions to the lions of the land 
planned and arranged. That Funchal is a gay 
place I certainly cannot assert — very far from it; 
but it has its charms and its delights. 

One feature is, assuredly, melancholy. It is 
seldom that you can stir far from home without 
encountering some mournful object, often apparently 



GENERAL APPEARANCE OF FUNCHAL. 



245 



on the brink of the grave, borne along at a slow 
pace in the hammock or the palanquin, with the 
hectic cheek and emaciated frame belonging to 
that fearful disease, consumption. How sad it is 
to reflect that many of these, could they have been 
sooner persuaded to try the effect of this salu- 
brious air, and equable, mild climate, might have 
reaped the expected boon and blessing of re-esta- 
blished health ; but, unfortunately, the generality of 
people wait till it is too late to do any good — the 
mischief has taken too deep root, and this charming 
temperature and soft air, which might in the earlier 
stages of the disease have proved so beneficial, and 
arrested entirely its further progress, have no efficacy. 
When the first symptoms appear, then is the time to 
check the evil in the bud. But it is only too often 
allowed to attain to a frightful height before Madeira 
is resorted to. I observe this more and more. A 
cure under such circumstances would, indeed, be 
little short of miraculous. 

That some wonderful cases of recovery of health 
at Madeira have taken place, appears certain ; but 
the common mistake is to put off the visit to the 
island till it is too late to be of any real advantage, 
and the exhausted and shattered constitution can 
be repaired and strengthened by no earthly means. 

Poor Prince Alexander of the Netherlands* died 
here a few years ago. I felt a melancholy interest in 
looking at the house where he had lived — and died, 
having been very well acquainted with him in 
Holland. He was truly amiable, kind-hearted, and 
friendly, was much beloved by all who met him, and 
I knew many good traits of him. He came to the 

* Brother of the present King of Holland. 



246 



PRINCE ALEXANDER. 



island in an all but hopeless state, I was told, and 
the climate failed in renovating him. The cir- 
cumstances connected with his fatal decline and pre- 
mature death were singular. The Prince was pas- 
sionately fond of sport, and was an excellent rider ; 
he was anxious to ride a particular horse at some 
races in Holland, and as he was very tall, and 
broad in proportion, he found it necessary to go 
into extremely severe training for the purpose. Un- 
happily, Prince Alexander set too zealously about 
this, and he reduced himself so seriously that he 
never rallied. His Royal Highness's sister told me, 
that it was scarcely possible to imagine .that a 
human being could be so fearfully changed as he 
was, in a very short space of time. Prom being 
a remarkably fine young man, full of' health and 
strength, he had become a mere shadow, and so 
debilitated as hardly to be able to move. He had 
caught cold, I fancy, either during or after his 
training ; his lungs became affected, and from this 
attack, reduced as he was, he never recovered. I 
heard some touching accounts of his sufferings, 
which seemed to be but little alleviated here. 

Our excellent Queen Adelaide was at Madeira 
at the same time, and was much shocked at the 
young prince's early death, having seen a good deal 
of him during their mutual residence here. I could 
not but picture him in my mind's eye, as I had last 
seen him in his native land galloping over the wild 
heaths and uplands of Loo in the hawking season, 
the falconer's plume streaming gallantly from his 
Spanish hat, with the loud cheery " a la vol" on 
his lips, and generally one of the very first in at the 
fall, when the heron and the victor-hawks touched 
the ground. Never was one more universally 



THE DECAYED BARON. 247 



popular, so good-humoured and sociable was he, 
and invariably kind, courteous, and friendly to every 
one. 

Perhaps some little anecdotes connected with 
him may not be altogether uninteresting. 

There was a poor, desolate old man, who lived 
near the Loo then, who had been the victim of severe 
misfortunes. He had fallen from wealth and sta- 
tion to the most abject poverty, through a series of 
melancholy circumstances. The Prince, besides 
giving him more substantial marks of his benevo- 
lence, behaved towards him invariably with the 
greatest kindness, delicacy, and consideration, and 
this generous treatment deeply affected the old 
man. He used to come occasionally to the Loo to 
sell little birds which he caught — by this means earn- 
ing a miserable livelihood. It was really touching to 
see him conversing with the princes (for the Prince 
of Orange, the present king, was also very kind to 
him), preserving all the courtly high-bred manners 
of old days, in his ragged and scant apparel, and 
treated by them exactly as if he was still in the 
heyday of his prosperity, or even with greater 
courtesy. On meeting and taking leave, profound 
obeisances were exchanged. Of course I need not 
add that they bountifully relieved him ; but the old 
man, the " decayed baron," as he used to be called 
thereabouts, had a strong spirit of independence 
about him. His tale was a most affecting and 
singular one, but I have not space to insert it here. 

The hotel at the Loo, at that time, was not the 
best-conducted and most comfortable possible ; but 
the Prince met all its disagreeables with unalterable 
equanimity of temper. The master was somewhat 
of a skin-flint, and while he charged exorbitantly 



248 



THE BITER BIT. 



high to his guests he paid the most miserable wages 
to his waiters, and half-starved them ; the con- 
sequence was, that they usually stayed a very short 
time, — gradually, while they did, becoming more 
and more slender and thread-paperish. Dutchmen 
do not like fasting perpetually, and have no turn for 
becoming thread-papers, and before they quite 
expired of inanition they generally took themselves 
off to Arnheim or Deventer; bent, perhaps, on 
appeasing the pangs of hunger with a few of the 
famed cakes of the latter place, of which a tempting 
announcement and recommendation was posted up 
in the hall of the hotel, in Dutch, and also in choice 
English, extolling their merits and their cheapness, 
the English translation beginning thus — " Sincere 
Deventer cakes sold here;" meaning, they were the 
real Simon Pures, without adulteration or deteriora- 
tion. Well, one of these waiters was said to be 
a beggar the landlord had picked up out of the 
road, from economical motives, thinking the hero 
of the scrip would not be so extravagantly dis- 
posed, nor bring such a formidable appetite to bear 
on his provisions as other candidates for the post ; 
and that he would be more contented : but no such 
thing ; this gentleman found he had not bettered 
himself by the exchange, and he had not patience 
to wait for the " backslashes" at the end of the 
season (or, perhaps, he did not know of the money 
the guests were sure to give him on their departure) ; 
in short, after perpetually spilling the hot soups 
and the sauces over the prince — who constantly 
dined there — and knocking the dishes against him, 
the knight of the wallet made his exit, and rumour, 
if I remember rightly, said, so precipitately (as if 
he was afraid of being caught, and turned into a 



A TRANSMIGRATION. 



249 



respectable head- waiter again), that he was observed 
scampering down the road at a great pace, appa- 
rently running a match against time. He won, 
I have reason to believe, — though it was not con- 
sidered unlikely that, in a spirit of peculiar fair- 
ness, the ex-beggar entertaining a good opinion of 
his running powers, and having found Time go very 
slowly, in fact, like a Dutch snail, while he was 
imprisoned in the hotel, with nothing to eat and 
drink, had considerately weighted himself with 
several teaspoons, a soup-ladle, and sundry other 
articles of plate. 

After his departure, a singularly uncouth- 
looking being was introduced to his place. I sup- 
pose the mendicant had run off with the thread- 
bare coat provided to make him look decent, as he 
could not well officiate in his rags. So this 
new garcon was clothed in a still less expensive 
suit — a coat that might have been compounded 
of anything, from a piece of black baize to an old 
horse-hair sofa-covering, and a waistcoat of a worn- 
out door-mat. This worthy had been a carpenter, 
and his manners were of the roughest ; he would 
put your plate down as if he were about to hammer 
it into the table, and would rub off the crumbs 
as if he were planing the festive board; and as 
to the dinner-napkins, when he cleared away the 
things he littered them about like shavings, and 
cut the bread as if he were sawing a plank. The 
carpenter predominated so much over the waiter, 
that one almost dreaded to find the pepper-castor 
filled with tenpenny nails, or the mustard-pot re- 
plenished with size and glue ; or he might have put 
gimlets in place of toothpicks, and supplied the 
salt-cellar with sawdust. He lifted the covers of 



250 



A LUDICROUS SCENE. 



the dishes as roughly as if he were knocking down 
a partition wall, and hoisted the tray as though it 
were a deal packing-case. 

Sometimes he would stand awhile, and stare in 
an abstracted mood, contemplating the chairs, — 
rather crazy specimens of dining-room furniture they 
were, — as if anxious to find a screw loose, and have 
a chance of exercising his art. One should hardly 
have been surprised, had he begun hammering 
away at the identical chair one was sitting on, and 
if thus one had found one's self nailed to it. 

Prince Alexander used to be particularly amused 
at the humours of the man of tacks and boards, 
and was often rather cavalierly treated by him. I 
will give an instance of this coolness. 

We usually came in late from hawking, and 
the tea and coffee were brought in, after dessert, 
to the dining-room. One evening I was sitting 
next to the prince, and when the carpenter offered 
me the tea, by way of giving himself as little 
trouble as possible, and keeping the cups and 
saucers steady, he quietly rested the tray upon the 
royal shoulders. I was going to desire him to take 
it off immediately, but Prince Alexander made me 
a sign to desist, and maintaining both his position 
and his gravity, entered into the carpenter- waiter's 
views, and shouldered the tray manfully j the latter, 
after balancing it nicely there for some time, evi- 
dently well satisfied with the success of the manoeuvre, 
carried off his cups and saucers triumphantly, re- 
gardless of the laughter of all around him. Poor 
Prince Alexander ! I remember, one evening, our 
being thirteen at dinner, and the old superstitious 
notion was canvassed of its being an unlucky 
number, and some one observed, " You know 



PREJUDICES OF THE MADEIRESE. 



251 



it is said, when there are thirteen at table, one will 
die. I was told somewhere here in Holland, the 
other day, that if this luckless number meet toge- 
ther at dinner, the first who rises will be the first 
of the company to die/ 5 " I have heard that said, 
too," said the Prince, c< and I will be the first ; I 
always like to fly in the face of these silly old 
superstitions." He did as he said, and it was a 
rather singular coincidence, that not very long after, 
he, the strong, active, robust, healthy young man, 
who bade fair indeed to reach a good old age, was 
laid in his untimely grave. 

The Duke of Leuchtenberg, I believe, was at 
Madeira the year before we were, and this climate 
benefitted him exceedingly. However, medical people 
said, if he did not return, and if he passed the 
winter in Russia (he was the son-in-law of the Em- 
peror), he would infallibly die.* 

In spite of the immense good the English must 
do here, and the quantity of money that they 
spend, I hear that our countrymen and country- 
women are not at all popular in the island. 
There are several English tradesmen established in 
Madeira — the natives fancy they undersell them, and 
are formidable rivals. Among the merchants a 
similar sentiment probably exists ; aud the aristo- 
cracy of the place entertain a feeling of jealousy 
against the British visitors, partly because they 
consider them more wealthy than themselves, partly, 
perhaps, because they look on them as interlopers 
and as lovers of progress and promoters of innova- 
tion, and partly from a mere dislike of foreigners : 
however this may be, I believe it is really the case, 

* Since this was written the Duke of Leuchtenberg has 
died, I believe, at St. Petersburg. 



252 



AGRICULTURAL IMPROVEMENTS. 



that notwithstanding the money circulated in the 
island by the English visitors, and the numerous 
charities and good deeds of the English residents, 
the native population, especially among the higher 
orders, would be delighted to sweep their fair island 
clear of them, and to have it once more all to 
themselves. 

Occasionally they will, (though generally court- 
eous in their demeanour, and willing, apparently, 
to live outwardly on good terms with the 
strangers,) speak their minds openly and honestly, 
and confess that it is truly unpleasant to them to 
have their island overrun with foreigners, who can 
have no sentiment in common with them, and who, 
they seem to have a shrewd suspicion, are rather 
inclined, perhaps, to look down upon them and 
to despise them as a people devoid of energy and 
enterprise, profoundly ignorant, and opposed to 
innovation and improvement, being, in most cases, 
but too deeply imbued with that prejudice which 
offers ever the most stubborn resistance to the spirit 
and tendencies of this age of movement and 
progress. It would appear they almost instinctively 
feel this, and are a little ashamed of their defects 
and weaknesses, yet, it may be, not sufficiently so to 
overcome them : but idleness is almost universally 
seen accompanying such delicious climates as their 
own ; and it has happened, not unfrequently, pos- 
sibly, that even the stern, energetic, Anglo-Saxon 
character, has yielded to their soft, enervating in- 
fluences. 

Some improvement is to be observed, however, 
in Madeira. Formerly a very primitive system of 
agriculture was in vogue here; but under the su- 
perintendence or the sanction of the Duke of 



WRETCHED STATE OF THE POOR. 253 

Leuchtenberg, in 1850, a society for introducing 
a better method has been established at Funchal. 
This lately-formed society has for its object the 
dissemination of instruction relating to the various 
modern improvements connected with the arts of 
agriculture, and the introduction of necessary im- 
plements, as well as of seeds and plants ; it is 
confidently to be expected much good will yet 
result from this, for at present, despite its nu- 
merous advantages, this lovely island is ill culti- 
vated, and its rich resources are not turned to the 
best account. 

A considerable portion of it, however, is said to 
be unfitted to the purposes of cultivation. The higher 
regions, where grow the bilberry and the heath — 
and these, probably, may be considered as con- 
stituting one-half of the island — are too exposed 
and sterile for the production of corn ; and many 
other districts are either covered with rocks, or else 
the precipices that abound there are too abrupt 
and steep to admit of the ground being cultivated. 
Thus, perhaps, little more than one-fourth of the 
island is actually under cultivation : but these are 
reasons for bestowing more care and energy on the 
improvement of the remainder ; not, certainly, for 
neglecting it. 

The poor of the island are continually suffering 
under the severest privations, and it is often la- 
mentable to see their care-worn, haggard, half-starved 
appearance. The children of the peasantry in ge- 
neral struck me as particularly unhealthy-looking, 
and many really had cadaverous countenances and 
skeleton forms. I remarked this to friends of 
mine, who had been for some time resident here, 



254 



MODE QE CULTURE. 



adding, that whatever it might prove to the ailing 
and diseased who benefitted by its peculiarly mild 
temperature, I thought this climate must be, in 
the main, an unsalubrious one, from the wretched 
and sickly looks of most of the country-people and 
their offspring. My friends replied, that it was 
the want of sufficient nourishment alone that occa- 
sioned their emaciation and debility; and I sub- 
sequently heard abundant corroborations of this 
assertion. 

It is frequently quite a melancholy sight to see 
these pallid, gaunt children, often without a trace of 
childhood, save its helplessness and weakness, and 
this commonly exaggerated. 

The new society has ventured on an arduous 
undertaking ; full many prejudices will it have to 
combat, and antique usages to reform. Seldom 
is there here any change of cultivation or rota- 
tion of crops. Year after year, age after age, on 
the same lands, are grown barley and bearded 
wheat. Their average produce is stated to be 
about ten bushels per acre. In the higher dis- 
tricts, the produce of the rye grown there is 
even more scanty. The cereal most largely cul- 
tivated is the bearded wheat. This is said to 
occupy at least one half of all the arable land 
in Madeira. Throughout the length and breadth 
of this little island the produce of grain but 
slightly exceeds, if at all, three months' con- 
sumption. From October to January is the time 
for sowing the wheat. The harvest takes place 
either in the month of May or in that of J une ; 
this depends on the locality. The grain usually 
is torn up by the roots ; it is trodden out by oxen 



MANNERS OF THE PEOPLE, 



255 



on level, circular, enclosed threshing-floors, en- 
vironed by a rude parapet- wall of stones, loosely 
piled together, generally in some exposed spot, where 
likewise the process of winnowing is carried on. 
This is accomplished by flinging the grain into 
the air, and permitting the breeze to bear the 
chaff aside. The oxen are unmuzzled, strict obe- 
dience being displayed to the scriptural command 
relating thereto. 

Indian corn (maize) is one of the chief articles 
of food among the more necessitous classes. Would 
they were more abundantly supplied with it. It 
has lately been cultivated successfully in the north 
of the island, and its cultivation should decidedly be 
encouraged : it is imported in considerable quan- 
tities, under ordinary circumstances, from the Azores, 
from America, and from the mother-country. The 
common agricultural implements that have been in 
use at Madeira for generations are the " arado " 
(plough), a very unsophisticated-looking instru- 
ment, principally constructed of wood, and sup- 
posed to be not unlike the "aratrum" used by the 
old Romans ; the " po-dao," a pruning-knife of 
an angular form; a short pick-axe (" enchada"), 
which is a little curved, and which turns up the 
ground but partially, and a sickle with a jagged 
edge, with which they cut the grass and other 
forage for their cattle ; this is denominated the 
" foucinho," or the " fouce." None of these are, 
perhaps, particularly well adapted to the services 
they are intended for ; but " our fathers and their 
fathers used them before us, and they will do for 
us also," is often considered a conclusive argument 
by the unenterprising and idle : still it is to be 



256 



NOTIONS OF ENGLISH. 



hoped, in a few years a manifest improvement will 
take place.* 

The islanders, in general, seem a simple-minded 
people, unsophisticated as their ploughs and pruning- 
knives. The few that I met with, during the period 
of my short sojourn there, appeared to me to be 
remarkably fond of hearing their own voices ; when 
they could talk a little English especially, chattering 
away without much regard to pronunciation or 
arrangement of sentences ; and when they knew but 
very little, making up for deficiencies by the profuse 
use and repetition of the few words they successfully 
had mastered. Tn their own tongue they prattled 
away right merrily. 

They seemed, in general, exceedingly and ludi- 
crously fond of making affirmative responses to 
every interrogatory put to them. Certainly, " No " 
is as easy to say as "Yes"; but, perhaps, they 
do not consider it so civil, — not so accommo- 
dating and prepossessing ; and as the habit is gene- 
rally adopted by those who have but very little know- 
ledge of the language, but who like to be supposed 
to be thoroughly conversant with it, they think 
it the safer monosyllable of the two, when the 
question is imperfectly understood. Our good- 
humoured, active, obliging little waitress at the 
hotel, who spoke some English, and evidently 
wished to be considered a proficient, was par- 
ticularly fond of thus perpetually replying in the 

* The deplorable condition of Madeira lately, from the 
destruction of the best vines, will, doubtless, be known to the 
reader. An extensive and well-conducted emigration seems to 
be the only means by which to deliver numbers of the unfor- 
tunate inhabitants from famine and death. 



YOUNG HERMITESSES. 



257 



affirmative. "Yes, yes!" was the burden of her 
discourse ; and ere long I discovered that, by ask- 
ing her various questions respecting different little 
matters, I had acquired a stock of most dismally 
incorrect ideas with regard to a number of things. 
I then adopted another plan, and leading her to talk 
of any trifling subject I wished to hear some- 
thing of, carefully abstained from putting any di- 
rect interrogatories to her. As we asked no ques- 
tions, we heard no fibs — unintentional ones, of 
course, they were. The constant " Yes " was sup- 
pressed, and Maria gabbled away pleasantly enough. 

The house opposite to the hotel was a handsome 
one, but we observed the shutters were almost con- 
stantly shut, and an air of deep gloom pervaded the 
whole mansion. Maria drew our attention to this 
house one day, and volunteered some particulars re- 
specting it. She told us, two eccentric young ladies 
lived there ; " plenty money," she said they had, 
" plenty money and they were mistresses of them- 
selves and their mansion, as their father had 
been dead for some time : but they chose to lead 
the most solitary lives imaginable, hardly ever 
going out or admitting any one to visit them. 
Their shutters were almost continually kept en- 
tirely closed ; one only, which appeared to be- 
long to the window of an ante-room, or passage, 
being partially, or sometimes quite open. They 
played "much beautiful" on the pianoforte, and, 
indeed, every now and then came wafted across 
the street enlivening snatches of melody, and it cer- 
tainly appeared that Maria's encomiums were not 
undeserved, for, as far as we could judge, these fair 
recluses played with considerable skill, power, and 
expression. 

s 



258 



A JUVENILE REBEL. 



It must be confessed that, though almost all 
the windows in the house were kept thus scru- 
pulously closed, day and night, yet that out of the 
solitary one that was not fastened up, en revanche, 
these young hermitesses looked very frequently, to 
make up for the gloom of the barred-up rooms. 
Indeed, they seemed to take their post generally in 
the passage, in order to glance sideways (and as they 
thought, probably, unperceived) through the un- 
obstructed panes there, or actually opened casement. 
They were far from being ill-looking; they possessed 
rather a Spanish than Portuguese cast of features, 
perhaps, and, like the generality of the ladies of Ma- 
deira, bad dark eyes and hair, intelligent counte- 
nances, and graceful movements. They had not a 
particularly melancholy expression of physiognomy, 
which was sufficiently singular, considering the ex- 
ceedingly doleful existence they must necessarily 
lead, one would imagine ; for, if report speak the 
truth, the natives of the higher orders here, even 
when endowed with good natural abilities, have 
but few resources within themselves, are deficient 
in most branches of knowledge, and take but little 
pleasure in reading. 

Even with regard to then own pretty, fairy- 
like isle, they are said to know but very little ; and 
as to the other countries that occupy a rather 
large portion of the surface of this sublunary 
sphere (which, perhaps, they are not aware of), 
they know nothing of them. Occasionally they pore 
over the poor translation of an equally poor French 
novel, but this is generally the extent of their 
studies. Honourable exceptions, of course, there 
are. 

One day we happened to be at the windows or on 



" ICI ON PARLE ANGLA1SE." 



259 



the balcony, and, to our surprise, we saw the misan- 
thropesses appear at their accustomed peeping-place, 
accompanied by a merry little child, who seemed 
to have her own way pretty despotically. Maria 
explained the mystery. They had one married 
sister, and though they would not often see her, 
yet from time to time they relented, and opened 
their cloors and their hearts, though not their shut- 
ters, to give her a sisterly reception. 

The child seemed not to approve exactly of 
being kept at one window, and we expected 
the little tyrant would have her way, and have 
all the gloomily -fastened blinds and shutters of 
the house opened ; but, no ! she did not accom- 
plish this. To console herself for this privation, 
about every five minutes she bounded away from 
the window, and led the poor sisters, it appeared, 
a sad dance in the dark after her ; for when they 
all reappeared at the open casement, the fair man- 
haters showed signs of a discomfiture of coiffure, 
and a discomposure of ribbons, such as well might 
result from a hunt among various articles of fur- 
niture in utter darkness after a refractory child, 
who had probably hidden herself mischievously, in 
hopes her poor young aunts might break their noses 
and shins in stumbling about after her ; and thus, 
too, she thought, doubtless, she should induce them 
to fling open every shutter in the house. 

When I began first to suspect that our poor 
Maria pretended to understand more English than 
she actually did, I tried her quietly something in 
this way, — 

" Is the gentleman down-stairs a German ? " 

"Yes!" 

" But I thought he was a Portuguese ?" 



260 



A REMARKABLE YOUTH. 



"Yes! yes! Oh, yes!" 

" But do you not know? Perhaps he may be a 
native of this island ?" 
"Yes!" 

" Do you suppose he is a Spaniard?" 

"Well, yes!" 

" Or a Frenchman?" 

"Yes! yes!" (very affirmatively.) 

" Or a cannibal? or an esquhnaux ?" 

"Oh, yes!" 

"Or all these together?" 
" Yes ! Ah, yes ! yes !" 

In short, to all interrogatories put more imme- 
diately to her, she responded " Yes ! yes ! " like a 
parrot. 

V , however, tried one Madeirese much 

farther. It was a youth, — a stable-boy, — a subor- 
dinate, — a supernumerary, — (who generally fol- 
lowed in the wake of those " burriqueiros," or 
grooms, who, in Madeira, act the part of guides, 
and accompany their horses wherever they may go,) 
— that w T as experimentalised upon. We were very 
near the gigantic Cape Giram at the time. She 
asked the boy if he had often climbed up it ? 

" Yes, Senhora!" 

"Did you ever tumble from the top to the 
bottom ?" 
"Yes!" 

"What! often?" 
" Yes!" 

"And did it kill you?" 
"Oh, yes!" 

"What ! you were really killed?" 
"Yes ! yes!" 

"I suppose that hurt you very much?" 



A TEMPLE OF FLORA. 



261 



"Yes — much!" (rather hesitatingly.) 
"And did you recover quickly after you were 
dead?" 

"Yes! Oh, yes!" (very positively.) 
" And do you suppose you will often be killed 
again in this way ?" 
" Yes, Senhora ! " 

" But you are quite used to it now, of course ?" 
"Well, yes! yes! Ah! yes! certainly." 
" You would rather like, I dare say, being killed 
a little to-day ?" 
"Yes!" 

"And it is somewhat pleasant to tumble, and 
be crushed to atoms ?" 

" Oh, yes ! yes!" (quite enthusiastically.) 

As she maintained throughout this curious con- 
versation a proper degree of gravity, the poor lad 
never discovered the trick that was being played 
him, and I doubt not he would reply just in the 
same manner to any other person who liked to try 
him. 

I had a very delightful walk one afternoon. I 
wanted to pay several visits, and as I thought the 
palanquin must be a tiresome conveyance, I set out 
on foot. One of the villas I had to go to was situ- 
ated on a considerable eminence, and when my 
maid and I asked our way to it, we were told it was 
quite impossible we could walk there, the hill was 
so terribly steep and long. We had several times 
to ask for information as to the whereabouts of this 
quinta, and the same discouraging answer was con- 
tinually given us. I knew, however, too well the 
habits of indolence engendered by climates such as 
this, to be thus easily daunted ; and, persevering, 
at last attained this lofty summit of my pedestrial 



262 



BEAUTY OF THE QUINTAS. 



ambition. The hill was certainly steep, and of con- 
siderable height ; but the way was pleasantly be- 
guiled by the beauty of the vegetation and scenery 
around us. What walls, sheeted over with wild rose, 
and honeysuckle, and myrtle, and jessamine ! What 
light pretty fences, that seemed entirely formed of 
fuchsias and geraniums ! What a rich awning of 
leaves and flowers hung over our heads ! One 
beautiful blossom predominated greatly in some of 
the gardens we passed, of which I knew not the 
name. It clustered in lovely profusion, almost 
dyeing the air around it with its own glowing, golden 
colour. What treillages, and what fantastic bowers, 
met the eye as it wandered hither and thither, 
bewildered with beauty ! what trellised vines and 
gracefully -trained creepers ! what winding paths, 
promising new wonders ! what enchanting glimpses 
into luxuriant and delightful gardens, with their 
bowery arcades and their exquisite parterres ! and 
what a blue, blue sky, shone peeping between the 
interlaced boughs and foliage overhead, forming 
so thickly- woven, so closely-entwined a roof, that 
the deep clear azure glancing through, almost to a 
fervid, poetical imagination, might appear like the 
celestial blue eye of an angel, looking intently, 
earnestly down, on the smiling scene ! Something 
of life and soul seemed to be in that warm, in- 
tense, deep, ardent blue ! When we got to the top 
of the hill the prospect was one of great love- 
liness, and we remained for some time engaged in 
admiring and studying it, and in — taking breath, 
if the truth must be told, for it was enough " to 
give one pause." Another time I went to a 
quinta on a different height, and the view from 
that was yet more beautiful. The pleasure-grounds, 



THE STRELITZIA REGINA. 



263 



too, were magnificent. Some splendid and rare 
trees grew there, as well as multitudes of flowers. 
All this, be it remembered, at Christmas time. 

Altogether these quintas seem to be delightful 
residences. They are very lovely, with their terraces 
and summer-houses, their vine -trellises supported on 
fantastic pillars, and their overarching bowers and 
pleasantly -undulating walks. In the best season 
for flowers they are almost flooded with them. 
Among them are passion-flowers, daturas, heliotrope, 
the superb hibiscus, splendid lilies, besides those I 
have enumerated before, and many others. 

I was anxious while here to pay a visit to the 
celebrated quinta of the late Count Carvalhal, but 
it could not well be managed, our stay being so 
short. The road is said to be a very good one, 
after you have passed a bridge over the river that 
boasts of the long sonorous name of Nossa Senhora 
do Calhao. You pass by the quinta of Esperanca, 
and after ascending, more or less, for pretty nearly 
three miles, you reach the entrance of the Palheiro 
do Ferreiro (Blacksmith's hut), where there is a 
little wood of Camellia Japonica trees, whose 
beautiful flowers are red, white, and white and 
red mixed, covering the trees, that are more than 
twenty feet high, with the most exuberant pro- 
digality. Some authorities maintain they are more 
than double the height I have mentioned, and that, 
in fact, they attain an elevation of forty or fifty feet. 
The camellias grow in this situation far better than 
nearer the city of Funchal, where it is warmer. 

The Strelitzia Regina grows to a considerable 
size in Madeira — indeed it is here a tree. Our 

kind friend, Lady N , showed us a drawing of 

one, with a figure standing beneath it; and to 



264 



THE STRELTTZIA RE GIN A. 



judge from that the superb plant must have been, 
at least, about eighteen feet high. I believe the 
flower of that particular one was white. Every 
now and then, in riding about in the country, you 
may catch a glimpse of a park, laid out much in 
the English fashion — perhaps by some English 
resident ; but the resemblance is considerably im- 
paired by the profuse introduction of those beau- 
tiful strangers, the lemon and orange trees, min- 
gled with pomegranates and groves of the shad- 
dock. 



THE CURRAL. 



265 



CHAPTER XL 

Of course we paid a visit to the Curral, the most 
celebrated spot in Madeira. We went with our 
friends, Lord and Lady N— — . The former, as 
well as myself, on horseback, and the latter on a 

capital pony. A hammock was provided for V ; 

however, she and Lady N took it by turns to 

ride and be carried in the hammock. 

The hammock-bearers are a wonderfully hardy 
and enduring race. They will go for an almost 
incredible number of hours without requiring either 
rest or refreshment, except, perhaps, a cup of wine 
at long intervals. I am speaking, however, now, 
of the mountaineers ; the hammock - men of the 
town are reported to be much more easily fatigued, 
and quite incapable, in general, of going the long 
distances their mountain brethren do with facility. 

Lord N had, therefore, taken care to send to 

the country for those who attended us. 

For a considerable distance the road is good, 
and very pleasant. We passed many charming 
pleasure-grounds and vineyards in the environs 
of the city. When we got among the moun- 
tains, our path lay along the brink of a very 
profound ravine. In some places the path was 
exceedingly narrow, and in one part, owing, pro- 



266 THE ARCH OF AL-SIRAT. 



bably, to some accidental circumstances, most likely 
the late very violent rains (the most violent, they 
told us, they had experienced for many years), the 
road was entirely broken away ; for a little space, 
at least, nothing was left but about a hand's-breadth 
of crumbling earth, which could not have borne 
the horse. Over this he lightly hopped and skipped 
daintily and carefully ! Yet let me not wrong him. 
I believe, in real truth, he stepped most soberly 
and seriously over it, but everything seemed in- 
clined to dance and prance before my eyes, and 
under, and round, and beside, and above me, even 
the huge rocks themselves. I always feel I should 
never get well over the Al-Sirat Arch ! I fixed my 
eyes very intently upon my steed's ears in the mean- 
time, as though critically examining their texture 
and colour, totally disregarding the glorious prospect 
spread beneath — far beneath, and high above me 
(particularly did I turn a " cold shoulder" to the 
former) ; for on one side towered a rock, like a 
vast wall, to the clouds, and on the other side a 
nearly perpendicular precipice, lower and lower 
descended, down, down, till it might seem to an 
imagination rather excited by fear, to penetrate to 
those regions where the Spanish courtier said he 
would leave his salutation-giving friend, who, in 
rivalry of urbanity to his own courteous figurative 
compliment, " I bow clown to the centre of the 
earth," had replied — "And I to the infernal re- 
gions." " There 111 leave you," quoth Don Some- 
body. 

Mine was a capital horse, one born and 
bred among the Spanish sierras, and imported into 
the island, I was told, by the governor ; at any 
rate he had belonged to the governor, and he was 



SOLUTION OF AN ENIGMA. 



267 



reckoned one of the best horses on the island. He 
was called " General the creature could scramble 
about like a monkey, almost. On this occasion he 
behaved beautifully, and marched along apparently 
with as sure a foot as a mountain mule, and without 
pausing to consider, too, which they sometimes do, 
and which dispassionate deliberation on their parts 
is rather an awful suspense to the rider, if the 
nerves are not entirely of iron. You do not feel 
quite sure that the animal may not have met with 
some reverses in life, and may be contemplating 
taking a lover's leap down the grim abyss that is 
frowning beneath. Hideous fancies have time to 
creep into your mind. "General," however, paused 
not ; he went with the most steady air, right onward, 
though very slowly and discreetly, I truly behVve ; 
and glad was I to be on the other side of this hor- 
rible little chasm, which I should hope now, for the 
sake of all visitors to the Curral, is thoroughly 
repaired and filled up. 

I have often wondered, particularly in Spain, why 
the horses you ride along narrow mountain tracks 
almost invariably choose to proceed along the outer 
and extreme edge of the perilous path. I never 
dared dispute the point with them, thinking their 
instinct the best guide, but devoutly wishing they 
would condescend to prefer what, in my humble, 
human judgment, appeared so much the safest part 
of the very limited path, that is, the farthest from 
the brink. 

I discovered the cause at length, after vainly 
asking many high authorities on the subject. 
The pack-mules are obliged to walk quite at the 
edge, on account of the burthen they carry, which 
sticks out on each side, while only just room enough 



268 ASPECT OF THE PEASANTRY. 



is provided to allow for this, and the package on the 
inner side actually all but grazes the rock (of course, 
the exact capabilities of the path are nicely taken 
into due consideration by the muleteers, and the 
packing is accurately arranged accordingly). Horses, 
although not necessitated on this account to avoid 
the mountain- wall that bounds the slender road, 
always like to tread in the footmarks of those ani- 
mals who have gone previously, and thus they pick 
their way along the extreme edge of the precipice, 
placing their feet where the others have stepped. 

We passed many of the peasantry, among whom 
were a large number of women, most of them 
bearing huge and heavy loads upon their heads, 
unpleasant turbans of tubs, or of piles of various 
articles, and towers of baskets, — and almost all of 
them, poor creatures, looking old. They work ex- 
tremely hard, and their food is scanty and bad, — 
their usual diet consisting of a little coarse bread 
and vegetables ; sometimes they have a spare allow- 
ance of fish. They were frequently accompanied by 
wretched, squalid-looking, hollow-eyed children : 
some of them also with their heads overturbaned, — 
sadly encumbered with large burthens. 

One little boy we remarked Avas very picturesque ; 
he had some heaps of sticks, for firewood, I suppose, 
in his hands, the carapuca on his head, and the 
rest of his attire seemed to consist entirely of a flow- 
ing cloak and an old pair of short trousers, leaving 
his legs and feet bare. A.s to a shirt, — well, perhaps, 
he may have had a few apologies for rags of 
tattered shirt somewhere beneath the cloak. 

The poor people whom we encountered along 
the narrow path generally ranged themselves closely 
against the huge rocky wall, making themselves 



EE- ASSURANCES. 



269 



as small as possible, to enable us to pass, and 
looking like so many statues or wax figures, re- 
maining perfectly still and silent usually till we 
passed by. Some of them looked so weak and 
emaciated, poor things, that as they half tottered 
along beneath their ponderous loads, one felt they 
must be greatly exposed to the danger of making 
a false step, and being plunged into the yawning 
abyss by their side. However, they are so accus- 
tomed to these paths, that probably such an ac- 
cident never or very rarely occurs. At the worst 

places, Lady N dismounted from her pony and 

walked. I confess I should be more frightened to 
do that than to ride, but I think she did not feel 
as much confidence in her pony as I did in my 
Spanish horse. 

The hammock-bearers went on capitally ; they 
carry a stick, which they are in the habit of in- 
serting occasionally between the pole of the ham- 
mock and their shoulders : it seems a great relief to 
them, as, when one part of the shoulder becomes 
tired or sore, the weight is thus shifted to another 
part. I frequently watched the hammock with ad- 
miration, as, skilfully conducted, it moved smoothly 
and steadily along before me, in its graceful sinuosity 
accommodating itself, apparently pliantly and yield- 
ingly, to the continual unevennesses of the frightful 
road. After passing in safety the very disagreeable 
bit of the no path I have described, I became com- 
paratively courageous, as beside that the rest seemed 
but little perilous. 

I left off studying the natural appearances pre- 
sented by the ears of my " monture," and ventured 
to look down, above, and around. My admiration, 
however, was not wholly unaccompanied by slight 



270 



NATIVE TREES. 



horror. At this time the river displayed its gleam- 
ing waters, perhaps one thousand five hundred feet 
below us. Masses of rich and abounding vegetation 
adorned the wild, bold, .majestic scenery, varying 
from the chestnut, conspicuous from its noble and 
elevated stature, to vast multitudes of brooms and 
of heaths, spreading themselves about with mar- 
vellous prodigality. 

Some of the hills near Pico Ruivo, and I 
believe a great part of Pico Ruivo itself, are covered 
with heath, that attains to the height and size of 
trees {Erica arbor ea), most of them measuring 
six and seven feet in circumference. We saw also 
numbers of the til (Lanrus /ceteris) and the vinhatico 
{Laurus indica) or the island mahogany. Both of 
these are indigenous to Madeira ; their wood is 
valuable, and much in request for cabinet-work 
here. The wood of the til, when it is old, becomes 
black, and might almost be compared, perhaps, 
with ebony. "When lately cut, it exhales a detest- 
able smell of sulphuretted hydrogen. In the ancient 
buildings on the island, the joists and rafters are 
often found to be formed of this fine wood, and the 
supply of it is principally obtained from them. 
Broom, and gorse, and bilberry also grow very 
abundantly in the serras, likewise barberry, I be- 
lieve. 

The existing indigenous trees, besides the til 
and vinhatico, are chiefly the flowering folhado 
(Clethra arboria), which abounds at Rib eiro Frio ; 
the wood is white, and much used for palanquin 
and hammock-poles ; the heath-tree {Erica arborea), 
and the yew, or teixo (Taxas baccata). (I am not 
quite sure, however, that these last are indigenous.) 
In old times, the native forests of Madeira almost 



ANOTHER GLIMPSE AT THE BEAUTIFUL. 271 

covered the whole island, and the name was given 
to it in consequence, since Madeira, in Portuguese, 
signifies wood. Now they are comparatively very 
insignificant and scanty indeed, the native timber 
generally being found only in rugged situations, 
principally in the north, among precipitous ravines, 
* where the charcoal-burner and the wood-chopper 
find great difficulty in exercising their brawny arms 
and plying their destruction-dealing tools. The 
roof of the Cathedral at Funchal, or the " Se," is 
formed of the wood of the indigenous cedar, which 
has nearly now disappeared entirely; and, except 
in a few of the pleasure-grounds belonging to the 
country-houses of the wealthiest residents, the 
dragon-tree, that once grew to a gigantic size here, 
is no longer to be seen. 

We stopped at length at a spot where the 
scenery was indeed both beautiful and grand, and 
after dismounting from horse and hammock, 
walking about among the rocks, and admiring it 
for some time, we bethought us of having recourse 
to the contents of our baskets. We therefore 
scrambled along a rather alarmingly slippery and 
steep place, to search for a rock where there was 
ample sitting accommodation. A glorious pro- 
spect we felt there must be, — and a glorious pro- 
spect there was ! W"e paused to look around us. 
Some large birds, which I took to be eagles, were 
flying majestically over our heads, and brightly 
shone the azure, unclouded sky ; while below us, at 
a vast depth, glistened the church of a quiet village, 
embosomed in smiling corn-fields, and among 
groves of vine-covered chestnuts, a perfect image 
of peace and repose, while around it grew in fan- 
tastical luxuriance the banana, the orange, and 



272 



MANY A SLIP, ETC. 



the fig-tree. The church is brilliantly white, and 
looks almost like an alabaster toy from the heights 
above. What a contrast did its tranquil, calm, 
and gladsome appearance present to the rugged 
precipices, and gigantic peaks, and frowning, cloud- 
capped steeps, that rose up in sombre, savage gran- 
deur around it ! 

So clearly and exquisitely was reflected on that 
happy, smiling scene, the sunny brightness of the 
firmament, and so blessed seemed the spot, with 
the holy edifice, called, I believe, Nossa Senhora do 
Curral, gleaming spotlessly in the midst of the 
laughing groves and paradisiacal bowers, that for a 
passing moment it almost seemed like looking down 
on some region of Heaven ! The rocks that girt us, 
some near, some far, were often terrifically pre- 
cipitous and bold. Here, perhaps, upreared them- 
selves enormous crags, destitute of any vegetation ; 
there, groups of dark mountain-trees, of the more 
lofty species, waved high their branchy arms afar 
in the breezy air ; or an occasional oasis of bright 
verdure, looking a thousand times brighter by con- 
trast, glanced in the sun, and knots of hardy, 
though sometimes stunted, evergreens raised their 
leafy heads in half-hidden sequestered nooks. 

This place has been compared to an enormous 
crater, here and there covered with vegetation ; and, 
indeed, it much resembled one. The locality where 
we had established ourselves for our little pic-nic 
had a very magnificent view indeed, but I should 
not have objected to the spot being less slippery, 
and rather more removed from the verge of the 
tremendous chasm. We found the rock, as we 
scrambled over it, nearly as smooth as glass or ice, 
and it was with considerable difficulty we tottered 



A PIC-NIC PARTY. 



273 



along to the place which we determined on making 
our festive rock, as just there, we had observed, there 
was a little ledge, not quite so much inclined as the 
rest ; still, as we sat there, one could not but feel it 
was not so very impossible, if we had a mind, and 
perhaps without having a mind, to go sliding down 
the terrifically-steep side of this giant crater, — down, 
— clown, — down, — till one might find one's self 
seated on the spire of the pretty church, or nestling 
in the tip-top of some lofty chestnut, about two 
thousand feet or more below where we were then 
placed. In fact, our seat appeared much to resemble 
a rounded and rather forward-pitched, slanting and 

sloping, slab of soft soap. Lord N certainly 

displayed admirable nerve, for he discharged the 
disagreeable-agreeable duties (I should have thought 
the former quality preponderated vastly) of unpack- 
ing plum-bread and sandwiches from plethoric 
baskets, and uncorking bottles, and cutting up 
loaves, standing calmly the while with his back to 
the precipice, and perpetually slipping and sliding 
about on the terribly-polished face of that huge rock. 
The late fierce torrents of rain had rendered 
this entire rock something like the well-scrubbed 
floors of Parisian apartments (on which a first-rate 
frotteur has exercised his best skill, and where 
sometimes a poor travelled John Bull finds himself 
skating unintentionally on his nose and chin); in 
consequence, our undaunted friend, who had charge 
of the commissariat, seemed ever thus to be dancing 
the glisse step before us to perfection, " Le Cheva- 
lier Seul," — while after every slide he recovered 
himself capitally : but it really was frightfully 
slippery, and looked painfully perilous, and we were 
very glad when he gave up this rather compulsory 

T 



274 



LIONISING. 



pas-seul, and seated himself on the safer spot where 
we were all established. 

We had charming weather for our expedition : 
the rain had vanished, yet it was not oppressively 
warm. Fate smiled upon us, or rather, as the nigger 
said of his good Fortune, " It didn't not smile only, 
it snickered right out." 

The Curral is truly a lion that is worth coming 
to see, and I was delighted that I came. I own that 
I have often a fit of Leophobia, — not a horror of real 
lions, nor of those live ones stuffed with straw, that 
the obliging showman sometimes offers to the inspec- 
tion of visitors, but of lions architectural or scenic, 
lions of mortar and brick, or of granite and earth, — 
or water, — the one perhaps but a ruined skeleton of 
its former self, covering the ground with its scattered 
bones, mouldering away as the hands that built it ; 
the other, still towering in a mountain skyward, or 
crouching in a profound abyss, or yawning sleepily 
in a ravine, or shaking in the wind its huge mane 
of forests, or with a bold roar flinging itself breath- 
lessly down a precipice in a fierce cataract, or 
lashing its tail while a whirlpool frets madly 
round it. You ought to admire these, therefore 
you don't. Such lions, the long-established tyrants 
of successive generations of tourists, roar you, not 
gently as sucking doves, but overwhelm you, — 
at least through the vicarious mouths of previous 
travellers, guide - makers, hotel - masters, sight- 
hunters, postilions, couriers, and laquais du place, 
with their loud notes of boastful bravery and tur- 
bulent triumph. People do not like to admire 
on a sort of compulsion. " Stand and deliver" 
is a bore, whether your praise or your purse is 
concerned. Often, too, those namesakes of the 



SIGHTS AND SIGHT-SEERS 



275 



king of beasts are not worth the pains of seeking. 
One is frequently persuaded to go grievously out 
of one's way to see the merest tawny cub, whose 
whiskers yon would wish to pull. Another time it 
is a sheer impostor, a jackass in the lion's skin : the 
wary, long-travelled, experienced tourist detects 
the cheat immediately, and casts a knowing zoo- 
logical glance of contempt at the would-be noble 
animal. 

But the raw visitor, the greenhorn in the ways 
of local showmen and their exhibitions, is quite 
taken in, gives the expected amount of enthusiastic 
admiration to the roaring quadruped, and takes his 
portrait in his note-book. The countries most fre- 
quented by green (not reel) rovers and systematic 
journal-keepers are generally lands perfectly teeming 
with menageries for tame creatures of the kind ; and 
some clumsily-manufactured representatives, too. as 
like the real majestic monster as a certain picture 
of the Emperor of Russia was to its original, which 
picture a lady once desired to see, particularly in- 
quiring which it was, as she gazed bewildered at 
what she was told by the showman were correct 
portraits " of them ' mighty emperors of Roossia, 
Proossia, and Bloosher." Now the Prussian 
King, the Russian Czar, and old Marshal Blu- 
cher, were all as puzzlingly alike as three padded 
and whiskered peas ; so the lady, thirsting for in- 
formation, cried, " Which, is the Emperor of Russia, 
I say — which?" " Which you please, ma'am — 
just which you please ; they are all so ivery like." 

We were most particularly fortunate in going on 
this expedition with our accomplished and amiable 
friends ; they w r ere so thoroughly conversant with 
all that was interesting in the scenery, that it w T as 



276 



PICO RUIVO. 



indeed a pleasure and a privilege to be with them. 
To the rocky, rugged den of this true " lion " of 
Madeira I advise every visitor to the island, who 
has pretty good nerves, to pay a visit. He will be 
amply repaid for his trouble, especially if such 
bold and savage sceneiy is new to him. He will 
gaze with astonishment and delight at the large, 
lofty, and nearly perpendicular rocks that close in 
the prospect on one side ; at Pico Ruivo on the 
east, lifting its mighty crest to the clouds, as though 
to 'meet the morning, while its sides are swathed 
for the most part with beautiful soft verdure, (Pico 
Ruivo is stated to be 6050 feet high, — some writers, 
I think, say it is very nearly 7000 feet high); and 
at the naked, craggy, pointed peaks of the " Tor- 
rinhas," which seem like the towers of castellated 
forts on the top of the mountains that bound 
the immense chasm to the north. Many of the 
jutting crags and rugged masses, indeed, look like 
the colossal bastions and bulwarks of some vast su- 
pernatural fortifications — some ramparts of unseen 
giants. He will hail with softer pleasure the milder, 
lovelier features of the scene — the varied patches 
of cultivation below, the clustering trees, grouped 
around in different directions — the abounding pro- 
digality of heaths, broom, and gorse, and bilberry 
bushes — -the bright wreathing clouds, perhaps gently 
resting on the sharp summits of the lofty hills, — 
and, in short, all the pleasing varieties of aspect that 
soothingly win the eye at intervals from the more 
massive and mighty parts of this enchanting spec- 
tacle. But I, too, am purring outrageously one of 
the family of the lordly beast I have been talking of. 

We did not get back to Funchal till it was 
dark. By the way, Funchal is called so from 



RETURN TO FUNCHAL. 



277 



fancho (fennel), because that once abounded here. 
We paid a visit another day to Pico Arieiro. The 
weather was fine ; and we went with the same kind 
friends who had proved such excellent ciceroni be- 
fore. This time we dispensed with the ham- 
mock, and V rode a very nice pony, full of 

life and spirit. When we got into the mountainous 
regions we found it quite cold, and our attendants, 
the burriqueiros, appeared to suffer greatly from 
the change in the temperature, owing to the ele- 
vation to which we had climbed. The cold seemed 
to stupefy them a little, and they could not find 
their road, making several blunders. Luckily, 

Lord N knew it thoroughly, and he guided us 

admirably. We saw so many beauties in succession, 
one after the other, that I should find it a difficult 
task to detail them all with regularity in the 
order in which they met the gaze. We remained 
for sketching purposes long at one place, from 
whence we had a splendid view ; and the burri- 
queiros kept themselves tolerably warm by rolling 
large stones to the side of the precipice, and then 
sending them plunging over : they watched them 
with apparent delight, bounding from point to point 
of the precipitous crags that beetled over the fair val- 
leys below. I should have been very sorry to have 
looked over that frightful precipice, and to have 
seen them rolling down — it would surely have made 
one feel horribly giddy — and I kept at that time at 

a respectful distance from the edge. Lord N 's 

horse was quite of my opinion, and on his wishing 
to make him advance nearer the brink, he posi- 
tively, refused, though a very docile creature gene- 
rally ; but he was evidently in a state of the most 
intense alarm. As to the view, it was indeed sublime. 



278 



eagles' rock. 



One of the most striking objects we saw was 
the extraordinary Eagles' Rock, the " Penha 
d'Aguia;" it is a colossal rock, in height between 
nineteen hundred and two thousand feet, and might 
almost be described as standing like the fickle 
gentleman in the old song, " Hey nonny, nonny/' 
with " one foot in sea and one on shore ; " for it 
nearly does so. In other directions you caught par- 
tial glimpses of lovely vales, where grew clustering 
chestnuts, with the graceful many-ten drilled vines 
trained thickly and abundantly on their broad- 
spreading branches : and ever and anon the eye 
caught sight here of a waterfall, or perchance a 
rivulet glancing in the sun, and there of a pic- 
turesque bridge, or a zig-zag road winding along 
ridges of the mountain, or a distant hamlet or 
far-stretching woods, or a portion of some Serra, 
covered with bilberry bushes, gorse, ferns, and 
broom, or wild barren hills standing in sombre 
gloom, and presenting a striking contrast to the 
rich streaks of verdure near, and the clumps of trees 
and " bosques." In all directions yawned, pro- 
truded, soared, stretched, or frowned, ravines, ridges, 
peaks, spurs, scaurs, gorges, and fortification-like, 
rocky bastions ; and behind seemed height over- 
topped by height, peak rising beyond peak ; and 
then the majestic Atlantic to complete the picture, 
— a glorious picture in itself alone ! 

1 am not sure whether it was from hence, or a 
little further on, that we saw the point Sao Lourenco 
projecting itself far into the deep blue ocean ; but if 
that did not adorn the scene, there was no lack of 
bold headlands and of rocky cliffs, of frowning steeps 
and jutting crags. It was from this halting-place, 
I think, w T e had a partial view of the beauteous 



MAJESTIC SCENERY. 



279 



valley and heights of Santa Anna ; but I must own 
that I was a little confused with the various names, 
especially while looking at the places that bore them 
from a spot not far removed from the verge of the 
nearly perpendicular precipice where we were 
assembled. Mine were fitful glances, and rather 
"few and far between still I saw quite enough to 
be impressed with the great beauty of the scenery 
and its bewildering diversity of cloud-capped 
pinnacles, ravines, dales, fields, crags, rocks, some 
bare, some begirt with bright foliage, chasms, 
crevices, rugged summits, spurs, crests, high, dizzy 
precipices, water - courses, ledges, winding paths, 
tracts of snow, woods, bushy clumps, and patches of 
green ! Besides these there were wandering rills of 
water, with deeply umbrageous banks, forests of 
heath and broom, and valleys with their gardens 
and fruitful orchards ! I believe one river, — 
Bibeiro Frio, — embellished the splendid prospect. 

The guides, having thrown over big, massy 
stones enough to warm them, and tire them, too, I 
should think, — became anxious to proceed, and we 
accordingly started again, and continued on our 
way pretty prosperously. I must just mention, 
however, that in various places I believe we went 
a short cut, to save — or lose a little time : and 
on several of these occasions we came to some 
very serious obstructions ; these were cumbrous 
masses of scattered rocks piled one on another 
in the most rugged and disorderly manner, but so 
as to form a truly formidable barrier to our further 
progress. 

At the first of these, after some little hesitation 
and consultation, — and I may add, consternation, 
— it was decided to try and pull down as much 



280 



FORMIDABLE BARRIER. 



as could be removed of the opposing detached 
heaps of rocks, and to scramble as well as might 
be over the rest. All the party dismounted, except 
myself; I had immense confidence in " General," 
and I felt sure we could get over the huge blocks 
that remained, in company, though, in sooth, they 
were very much like great towering walls : had I 
been a heavy weight it would not have been right 
to do it (or, indeed, would it have been feasible); 
but being quite the contrary, I decided on re- 
maining on horseback. The burriqueiros looked 
at the frightful place (over which, with great 
difficulty, the dismounted party were carefully and 
slowly scrambling), and paused with a negative 
movement of the head, and a bewildered expression 
of countenance. The horse also paused, looked 
wistfully and interrogatively at the obstruction, 
and was evidently seriously of opinion that, dis- 
passionately considering the affair, if he were to 
go over at all, which he thought rather unneces- 
sary and unpleasant, he had better do so without 
a lady on his back, who, however, to judge by a 
certain sly expression in his face, he thought would 
not remain there long. 

Notwithstanding all this, the lady was resolved 
to try it, and both burriqueiro and steed seemed 
of the opinion of the rather libellous poet, and 
mentally, perhaps, ejaculated, — 

" A fool's the man "(or horse) " who strives, by force or skill, 
To curb the current of a woman's will : 
For if she will, she will, you may depend on't; 
And if she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't." 

Horse and man, therefore, prepared to go over ; it 
was a tremendous scramble, but we landed safely 



A PIC-NIC. 



281 



on the other side. My companions told me it looked 
appalling, and almost exactly as if the struggling, 
striving horse, was walking first up and then down 
a huge wall. 

We stopped to have some luncheon at a grand 
spot ; for soon after this we clambered up to the 
highest stone of the Pico, (I dismounted, of course, 
to accomplish this), and, regardless of the cold 
wind that blew there somewhat too piercingly, we 
proceeded to indulge ourselves with a double feast 
— feasting our eyes on the glorious prospect, while 
we were banquetting on delicate sandwiches and 
other excellent condiments that filled the trusty 
corpulent hamper our friends had brought with 
them. Our horses in the meantime rested. 

"Sharply cold the air was, indeed, as it blew in 
keen gusts on the exposed pinnacle where we 

were seated. Lady N 's lovely fair face, even, 

looked slightly purple, and there was an inde- 
scribable variety of hues presented to our inquiring 
gaze by the noses and chins of our shivering guides, 
as they crouched clown together in the most shel- 
tered position they could find : in fact, they made 
a sort of ragged, broken, living rainbow, glimmer- 
ing amid the clouds that surrounded the mountain- 
top. 

A line of rosy -tipped noses shone brightly above 
a row of azure or half-lilac chins ; their naturally 
bronzed cheeks, paled and pinched with cold, ac- 
quired a sort of dullish yellow tint, which altogether 
seemed to melt to one "vast iris; of the west." We 
are rather capricious in our admiration of colours in 
the human physiognomy and aspect — the least shift- 
ing of place destroys the charm. " The blue depth 
of seraph's eyes" is tabooed on the cheek just below 



282 



TINTS AND TASTE. 



them. " Celestial rosy-red," Love's proper hue, we 
abominate on the nasal organ or eyelids ; marble- 
white suits not the lip : as for the golden gleam 
of bright locks, how looks that on the counte- 
nance ? — hear ye not then disparagingly " yellow as 
an orange — a marigold ? " — and so of other dyes. 

As soon as we had finished, the copious rem- 
nants of our mountain feast were handed to the 
chilly company, and their noses got a little redder 
after plenteous libations of the generous wines of 
their island. 

I have said our view was extensive, and indeed 
it was so, in the full sense of the term : bounded 
only by the vast Atlantic, it embraced a superb 
prospect of " Pico San Antonio," (about 5708 feet 
high) ; "Pico SidraS," (5500 feet in height), and 
the magnificent peaks of the Torrinhas, bare of 
vegetation, and always looking like the colossal 
battlements of some Titanic fortress ; part of Pico 
lluivo, the highest mountain of the island — (his head 
was nearly concealed by dense wreaths of clouds 
like snowy spray-garlands sent up from the ocean); 
and an immense chasm, a portion of which we 
looked down into, and which was, I believe, part 
of the Curral. From a neighbouring peak we 
could discover also Pico Pozo, Paul da Serra, Penha 
d'Aguia, Meio Metacle (a valley), Fayal, Cape Sao 
Lourenco, Pibeiro Frio, and, I think, Sant' Anna, 
and Porto da Cruz. 

We certainly had a most rugged, though, in 
many respects, a most delightful ride. Various 
changes and chances awaited us ; the guides in one 

part, where even Lord N was at fault, seemed 

quite to lose their way, and in consequence of this 
we had some very rough work : we evidently took 



AN ADVENTUROUS RIDE. 



2S3 



many a wrong turn. Poor, dear, sure - footed 
" General," again displayed his prowess and really 
marvellous climbing powers in getting over a most 
terrific place ; it was worse than the first — I saw 
it was tremendous, yet did not know how bad, till 
" General" began laboriously toiling, slipping, 
scrambling, plunging, and wildly struggling to sur- 
mount it. It was a most formidable mass of tall 
large rocks, almost perpendicular, of which some were 
loose. One of the party, who was on foot, in giving 
an account of it afterwards, and of my equestrian 
feats, said, — " There were some horrible places to 
pass * * * * One a mass of great rocks, 
and, to make it worse, many of the stones were 
loose ; nevertheless, one of our party rode over it, 
although it was all we could possibly do to scramble 
across it on our hands and knees." Another very 
disagreeable place was on a dreadfully slippery and 
very-much-inclinecl slope of an immense hill, whose 
summit seemed to consist of bare, sharp-pointed, 
needle-like, though somewhat jagged peaks, looking 
most inhospitably inaccessible, and whose base was 
buried, I know not wdiere, in depths of gloom. 
All again got off their horses here to walk, except 
me ; my good steed had carried me so Avondrously 
well through the former rugged passes that I de- 
termined on still clinging to the saddle. 

There was not the slightest vestige of a foot- 
path of any kind or sort, and so steep was the side 
of this huge hill, and so polished the surface of the 
stones which were scattered about on it, and such, 
indeed, was the ice-like smoothness of every part of 
it, that after slipping and recovering himself, I know 
not how often, my poor dear horse fell down upon 
his knees on the slanting, shelving, ground ; and 



284 



TJPS AND DOWNS. 



though the burriqueiro tried to assist him in 
rising immediately, the struggling animal pulled him 
down also, and I felt, of course, in a very uncom- 
fortable position. The horse was soon straining 
every nerve to get up again from his involuntary 
genuflexions, but as fast as he rose, or Italf rose, 
down he went, after a frightful scramble, hope- 
lessly floundering again ; and I felt as if, though I 
kept on the saddle, the horse, the burriqueiro, 
and I, were all gradually gliding and sliding clown 
the side of the abominably slippery, steep, and ap- 
parently bottomless, hill. I found the position was 
fast becoming a very dangerous one ; raising my eyes, 

I saw Lord N (who had dismounted to help 

the others up the hill) balancing himself as well as 
he could, and hastening along a horrible path most 
kindly to my assistance : he might as well have 
attempted to run on a rope of glass. A moment 
more, and I beheld him laid flat upon his back, 
with his arms extended like a spread eagle, or in 
the attitude of a kite when nailed to a barn-door 
as a warning to its rapacious comrades ; however, 
quick as lightning, he regained his legs. " Ge- 
neral" was also struggling up successfully, and by 

the aid of Lord N and the burriqueiro, we 

were soon all right again. My companions had 
in the meantime painfully clambered to another 
part of the steep, more difficult of access, but better 
when reached. 

At last w r e got back into the Serra, where we 
had had so fine a view of the Sant 7 Anna, Point 
Sao Lourenco, and Fayal. We had long been 
among the clouds, but now the chill driving sleet 
and rain began to abate a little ; and various 
complexions that had been too kaleidoscopically 



CHANGE OF ATMOSPHERE. 



285 



diversified for perfect beauty, subsided again into 
their native bronze : but the daylight was fast dis- 
appearing. A little further, and we found our- 
selves on a serra, where grew green bushes of 
bay or scented myrtle, and we were able to gallop 
on for a good distance. 

I own I looked forward with much pleasure to 
returning to the warm climate of the plains, for I had 
felt exceedingly cold, and indeed we had all of us put 
on every one of the additional wrappers we brought 
with us ; and a few extra shawls, I think, would 
have been welcomed with glee. We arrived at length 
at the steep hill from the Mount Church, which 
leads down to Punchal ; and I cannot describe how 
delightful the gradual warmth and mildness of the 
temperature felt, as we descended by degrees from 
the elevated regions of snow and sleet, and of bare 
peaks and stony ridges, to the haunts of the banana, 
the sugar-cane, the orange-tree, and the lemon. 

It was not unlike entering a hot-house, exhaling 
delicious odours and breathing a luxury of warmth, 
after being exposed to the piercing blasts of a 
stormy wintry day. I certainly have rarely more 
rejoiced in a favourable change of climate, and 
right gladly drank in the balmy, soft, exquisite air. 
Often people slide down this steep hill, on little 
sledges constructed for the purpose and guided by 
boys, who run by the side, or after them, and direct 
them sufficiently to prevent their going out of the 
road. It is said not to be an unpleasant mode of 
descending the declivity. We thought of trying it, 
but it was late, and the boys had probably all gone 
home, not expecting excursionists at that advanced 
hour. 

The streets of Funchal were almost deserted 



286 



RETURN TO HOTEL. 



when we rode through them to our hotel ; even the 
whine of the persevering beggars was silenced for a 
while, save here and there. Mendicants abound 
sadly here, — not impostors, poor creatures! but 
really famished and destitute wretches. Numbers 
emigrate to the Brazils and other places, but still 
there is great want and suffering in the island. 
Those who subsist on charity bear but small re- 
semblance to the well-fed, and sometimes, if report 
speak truth, wealthy beggars of our great metro- 
polis, who certainly ought not to endorse the senti- 
ment in the concluding lines of the old stanza, — 

" Tis a very good world that we live in, 
To lend, or to spend, or to give in ; 
But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own, 
'Tis the very worst world that ever was known ! " 

Another day V and I went out alone, at least 

attended only by the burriqueiros, for it is the cus- 
tom in Madeira for each horse to be followed by 
his groom, who often carries a sort of fly-flapper, with 
which, when the sun is hot, he switches away the 
insects that torment the horses and ponies. 

I rode my favourite courser " General," but on 
this occasion his own especial burriqueiro was ab- 
sent. He had been engaged particularly to go with a 
party to the mountains, and he sent a deputy in his 
place. The horse was quite sulky and sad at being 
deprived of the society of his beloved burriqueiro, 
and he totally forgot his usual good behaviour, and 
seemed bent on making himself as disagreeable as 
he could. He appeared disturbed in mind and 
restless in body, ridge tting, curvetting, dancing on 
his hind-legs, pawing with his fore, standing on his 
tail, or so it seemed, snapping madly at his own ears, 
fighting with his own nose, pulling, tossing, running 



AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE. 287 

sideways like a crab, doing anything and everything 
but go the way he was desired to go. At length 
he thought it quite consistent with his duty, as 
the well-behaved and discreet steed of a female 
equestrian, to actually begin rearing ; but he was 
persuaded to discontinue such vagaries as that, and 
in the sequel to proceed more tranquilly along. 

When we met a group of peasants or a palan- 
quin, however, on the road, he would put himself in 
such absurd attitudes and positions with regard to 
them as no sensible steed in his right mind would 
think of, behaving more like a dancing-dog at a 
fair than a well-bred Andalusian courser. Some- 
times he capered dos-a-dos ; then abruptly turning, 
he skipped away shoulder to shoulder, nor stopped 
to ask their leave, nor to request they would do 
him the honour to dance with him. At times he 
wriggled about so vehemently, that as you caught a 
lightning glance of him you might imagine he had 
put himself utterly en pcqnllote, and come out a 
sort of huge dark-brown corkscrew ringlet, — his 
whole body was a curl. How lucky he was not 
troubled with these perverse fits yesterday ! He 
might have taken a fancy to go over the hideous 
rocky barriers backwards, or to hop among the piles 
of rugged stones on one leg. 

Forgetting he was a Spaniard, I talked Por- 
tuguese to him — such as, I flattered myself, was 
not broken, though, perhaps, a little twisted and 
sprained; yet I had reason to think, some little 
time afterwards, it was in an absolutely smashed 
language I spoke — (one reduced to a fine impal- 
pable powder : it was a tongue torn up by the very 
roots). No wonder the horse, a foreigner, and per- 
haps an indifferent linguist, paid no regard to it, 



2SS 



ANOTHER LOVELY RIDE. 



only every now and then tossing his head contemptu- 
ously, and muttering in a low neigh to himself, — 
"Bother! What stuff's that? Why the deuce 
is Antonio to go and leave me in this way ? — 
I'll discharge the fellow, and kick him out of 
the stable, if he is out of the way next time I 
go out." After " General" gave up his new-fangled 
whimsies we had a charming ride, for while I had 
to attend to the wild, unwonted caprices of the 
horse, I could not so much enjoy the scenery. 

Part of the road we passed along w^as exquisite, 
near the sea, and skirted by the gardens of lovely 
quintas, where festooning roses and jessamines 
hung thickly over the walls, as if the beauty within 
was overflowing all bounds, and pouring its deli- 
cious deluges prodigally round ; and here and 
there the road was bordered with hedges, where 
were mingled myrtles, fuchsias, heliotropes, pome- 
granates, and geraniums. Now the tasselled stalk 
of the sugar-cane charmed the eye, now the lily 
or the violet, and now the beautiful leaves of a 
tropical-looking banana, which often attains a large 
size here. 

The day w T as very warm, and we could have 
easily fancied ourselves enjoying the soft air of 
a July day in England, had not the plants of 
foreign growth reminded us we were far from the 
land of the fog and the cloud. It is just possible 
that the little misunderstandino-s I had had with mv 
four-footed friend made me feel a rather deeper glow 
than did even the cloudless sun. That quadruped, 
it is true, now conducted himself better, but he and 
his temporary burriqueiro were evidently not on 
speaking terms. 

If the groom attempted to conciliate him occa- 



AN ANECDOTE BY THE WAY. 



289 



sionally, the proud steed gave him a dead cut ; and 
could he have made himself understood, would 
probably have answered a little in the strain that 
a lady's coachman once did in London, on being 
reproached with never attending to the directions 
given to the footman. Thus it was : — An elderly 
lady, who was in the habit of paying visits, as is the 
habit of all ladies of all ages in Modern Babylon, 
to a few thousand intimate friends, some of whom, 
perhaps, she had seen four times in her life, — had 
for some time past been disturbed in her mind by 
what she feared was the growing imbecility of her 
fat, well-wigged coachman, who was perpetually 
committing strange blunders. At length, losing all 
patience, having detected him going wrong for the 
sixteenth time on one particular day, when her 
warmly affectionate feelings led her as far as the 
knockers, and the knockers only, of half- a- hundred 
dear friends, she let down the glass precipitately, 
and asked the offender why upon earth he was 
going to the Regent's Park from the Quadrant in 
Regent Street, by way of Belgravia ! adding that, 
as usual, she had given Thomas the most explicit 
directions. " It's wery likely, ma'am," he replied ; 
" but the real facs of the truth is, I and Tummas 
are not on speriking terms — nor we haven't been 
for this here month past." 

The Jehu had generally contrived to deposit 
the lady and her card-case at the right friend's door 
by driving slowly in the first direction that struck 
him, when Tummas mounted the board behind (but 
omitted the usual confidential communication over 
the roof of the carriage). If right, well : and if he 
went wrong, the poor lady, seeing his mistake, had 
invariably stopped him with a " Surely you are going 

u 



290 



HAMMOCKS AND PALANQUINS. 



a roundabout way to Arlington Street," or, " You 
had better go sucli and such a way to Berkeley 
Square." When he proceeded in the right direction, 
but, perhaps, was whisking past the right door, a 
slight pull of the check-string was sufficient, because, 
as he knew pretty tolerably well the doors that the 
lady Avas in the habit of stopping at, and the families 
with which she exchanged tender feelings of friend- 
ship and tough pieces of pasteboard, he often 
guessed right ; and so the unsuspecting dame for a 
long time was quite deceived as to the arrange- 
ments of this wily hero of the reins, although she 
thought his mental perceptions were becoming sadly 
blunt and dull. 

On a fine sunny day like the one we were en- 
joying, hammocks and palanquins come out in the 
neighbourhood of the town, like butterflies on a 
warm summer's morning. The hammock of Madeira 
is very pretty, and sometimes richly adorned and 
extremely handsome. It is usually formed of 
firmly-woven hempen threads, of a variety of hues, 
decorated with a broad, netted, full fringe. It is 
suspended from a pole of considerable length, and 
is borne along in the same manner as its sister 
vehicle, the palanquin. The position is generally 
found to be more pleasant than in the latter, and 
the height from the ground is much greater. Ex- 
cept for very distant excursions, the remuneration 
to the bearers is the same, and the hire of the con- 
veyance. The hammock is almost invariably used for 
lengthened tours in the island, as the palanquin is 
heavier, and, probably, more awkward on the rough 
roads and among the mountainous passes in the 
country. Many residents in the city, too, use this 
mode of locomotion in preference to the other, from 



INVALIDS AND THEIR BEAKERS. 291 



its being more comfortable. Lady N- has a 

hammock of her own, and was so very good as to 
lend it to us for the whole time we were at Ma- 
deira : during that period it took up its abode in 
the hall of Mr. Miles' hotel. It was a beautiful ham- 
mock, of bright and harmoniously-blended colours, 
with a superb deep fringe surrounding it in graceful 
festoons, and when filled by a fair occupant there 
were generally a number of richly- patterned shawls, 
of sundry dyes, whose broad and gleaming borders 
hung over the edges of the vehicle, negligently but 
tastefully disposed within it. As for the palanquin, 
it is a sort of settee, also suspended from a long 
pole, and when carried along it is about twelve 
inches from the ground. The seat is low, — too 
much so, I should think, for comfort (but I cannot 
answer from experience, never having tried one). 
The attitude appears cramped and disagreeable. It 
is very frequently used for paying visits, and going 
short distances in the town, among those who are 
well, but who do not like riding or walking on the 
pebbly pavements of Funchal's untrottoired streets, 
and for airings for invalids. 

Many a pallid, ghastly face, have I seen at Ma- 
deira, projecting itself from the half-drawn curtains 
of palanquins, many an altered, haggard coun- 
tenance, which gave one the sad idea, that after a 
few airings the sufferer would exchange the palan- 
quin for the coffin — and sometimes helpless forms 
appeared outstretched there that seemed already 
utterly regardless of the gentle motion of the con- 
veyance, and the soft refreshing air that breathed 
lightly against their foreheads. 

Men carry these conveyances on their shoulders, 
and ladies on their wrists, — for in the island the 



292 



CURIOUS ORNAMENTS. 



prettiest little fac-similes of them imaginable are 
manufactured and worn hanging to bracelets, toge- 
ther with other " Cosas de Madeira/' among which 
shines conspicuously a miniature imitation of the 
fly-flapper, the switch the burriqueiros carry after 
horses and ponies. These animals, accustomed 
to be thus luxuriously cared for, and waited on, 
and fanned, like cwe-tailed pachas at least, might 
well give themselves such airs as the Senhor " Ge- 
neral" indulged me with on the occasion I have 
alluded to. I think a wine-jar is also among 
the characteristic ornaments dangling from these 
bracelets. 

The hammock and palanquin-bearers certainb 
do not, it appears to me, charge high for their often 
severe labour. They are paid sevenpence halfpenny 
English each, per hour, and fivepence for whatever 
time the palanquin or hammock may be hired ; 
but, as I said before, when the latter is engaged 
in long exclusions the men are paid higher. On 
such occasions persons are generally recommended 
to send to St. Antonio for bearers, and to other 
places in the country. They are commonly en- 
gaged at the rate of from two shillings and sixpence 
to three shillings and fourpence each for the day 
(from six hundred to eight hundred reis). This 
depends a good deal on the time for which they 
are likely to be employed. The hammock's pecu- 
liar motion at times causes slight sickness. 

I was told there are conveyances here, some- 
thing, but not much, resembling a Muscovite 
sledge, also for hire ; but you must be content 
to go at the truly " killing " pace at which the 
leisurely oxen proceed if you wish to take a drive 
in these. If there are more than one, however, they 



OPINION OF MADEIRA. 



293 



must be in fashion, for they never, or very rarely, 
seemed disengaged ; " Out, out," was the usual 
answer, when I inquired for them. I suppose the 
unwieldy machine I saw one day in the street was 
one of the kind ; though, I should think, a fur-clad 
elegant of St. Petersburg would stare much if he 
were told this clumsy drag was compared to a 
Russian sledge, skimming like greased lightning 
over the surprised snow. There are also wicker- 
work sedan-chairs. 

Madeira is usually accounted a very dull place, 
and I should imagine it must be found to be so, 
during a lengthened residence there ; most as- 
suredly for those who depend at all on gay society 
or amusements for their enjoyment, it must be 
dismal indeed. For those who have resources 
within themselves it is, of course, a different thing. 
Yet there is a kind of stagnation there that I can 
easily understand might affect every one in a 
greater or less degree, the idle or the occupied, the 
frivolous and the contemplative, — making its gloomy 
influence felt imperceptibly even by those whose 
well-stored minds or various occupations render 
them particularly independent of outward circum- 
stances. 

As for us, just for the short time we were there, 
we found it charming, and our time certainly did 
not hang heavily on our hands ; but then it was 
almost continually taken up by the most interesting 
excursions, and we had the society of most agree- 
able friends. 

Under ordinary circumstances, it must alone, 
one should think, sadden the mind, to be constantly 
in the habit of meeting the sick and suffering, in 
various degrees of wretchedness, borne helplessly 



294 



PAUCITY OF AMUSEMENTS. 



along. Philip of Macedon would not have wanted 
the monitor at his ear if he had sojourned in Ma- 
deira ; plenty of reminders would have forbidden 
him to forget his mortality. And yet it is not a 
selfish feeling, I think, that makes one feel sorrow- 
ful ; it is compassion for those so evidently suffer- 
ing, and who are far from their own happy homes 
in native England, where, probably, mournful hearts 
are now aching for them, and whose dearly-loved 
shores they may be destined never again to behold. 
It is difficult not to connect a melancholy history 
with each sickly face, too often lighted with the hectic 
glow that is so sad a sign of approaching doom. 
How have fond parents and devoted friends 
watched, prayed, wept over, that blighted blossom 1 
What hopes have been extinguished as that little 
fatal torch grew bright on the hollow cheek ! — 
what tears have dropped as the eye gathered more 
and more that deceitful brightness that but heralded 
death ! And now that the last trembling hope is 
placed on this delicious clime, whose sanatory 
renown led them to trust their dear treasure to 
its distant regions, will their anxious expectation 
be disappointed, or their ardent supplications heard, 
and the beloved one restored to health ? 

For those accustomed to the gaiety of large 
cities in their gayest seasons, and who are in the 
least fond of dissipation, Funchal must seem about 
as lively as a city of catacombs might prove. 

The round of amusements is soon exhausted 
after the island has once been explored. They 
consist mainly of palanquin and hammock excur- 
sions, the diversion being usually increased by these 
excursions comprising also a pic-nic party. Those 
who are strong enough and prefer equitation, engage 



LITERARY ATTRACTIONS. 



295 



horses and ponies ; while the invalids, of course, are 
borne along in the cushioned, curtained palanquin, 
with its gay, decorative, and pleasant awning, or 
the more elevated, deeply-fringed hammock. 

The cavalcade is accompanied occasionally by a 
band of music, probably more often in the spring 
than the winter, (which was the time of year that we 
were there) although, indeed, spring, summer, autumn, 
and winter, bear so strong a family resemblance to 
each other here that it is difficult to know one season 
from another ; and winter, instead of being a fur- 
rowed, white-bearded old gentleman, in a suit of 
icicles and night-capped with a patch of snow, is a 
young Adonis, wreathing roses midst his golden 
locks, — a " curled darling," reclining in the sun or 
looking at his own pretty face in the undulating 
mirror of a softly-flowing brook, and now and then 
meeting and saluting three lovely sisters, with whom 
he engages in an agreeable little flirtation, the three 
fair sisters being nothing loth. In some spots of 
the island it is not in the least uncommon to find 
spring, autumn, and summer, all grouped together ; 
or, at any rate, mingling through representations 
formed by their various productions. 

The palanquin and hammock-men keep up sur- 
prisingly well with the horses and ponies, however 
rough and broken-up the roads. The ladies resi- 
dent on the island, and many of the visitors, pos- 
sess vehicles of their own of the above description, 
and most of the furnished lodging-houses provide 
conveyances of the kind. 

There is no theatre at Eunchal. There is said . 
to be no bookseller's shop ! but there are libraries 
and reading-rooms in the city. At the English club 
there is a library of nearly two thousand volumes ; 



296 



PUBLIC BALLS. 



and there is a billiard -table there. The visitor 
having been previously introduced by a subscriber, 
the admittance is by ballot. The club is near 
the Cathedral. There is a Portuguese club in the 
Rua de Peru. Some English journals, together 
with the most noted of the French and Portuguese 
ones, are taken in there. This establishment like- 
wise boasts of a good billiard-table, but is destitute 
of a library : the visitors are also admitted to this 
club by ballot. Every evening tea is furnished for 
the guests. 

The members give a ball once a-month while the 
season lasts, and those dances are reported to be 
tolerably gay and agreeable. Before the ball be- 
gins, however, Madeira etiquette being rather formal, 
the ladies of the creation are drawn up together, 
and seat themselves sedately at one end of the 
apartment, separate from the lords, and this custom 
has rather the effect of icing the whole company 
and canopying the ball-room with a damp blanket, — 
this is, doubtless, copied from the mother-country, 
and so the young Miss Portugal, like the once nu- 
merous, finely-grown and lovely family of daughters 
of her haughty sister of Spain, has been taught from 
her earliest infancy to adopt her dear mamma's man- 
ners. At about three o'clock in the morning, or some- 
times sooner, it is the usual practice to have cups of 
hot chicken-broth taken round ; it might be as well 
to have this anti-refrigerating arrangement earlier in 
the evening, to counteract the effects of the chilling 
commencement, of which the guests seem to think 
♦ they have had enough. Chicken-broth appears to be 
a very favourite beverage with the Portuguese, for I 
remember being told, that when our Queen Adelaide 
was visiting Donna Maria da Gloria at her palace 



AQUATIC EXCURSIONS. 



297 



at Cintra, cups of steaming chick en -broth were fre- 
quently handed round to the queen and her ladies 
and gentlemen in attendance. 

Such a thing as a cafe, I am informed, exists 
not in Madeira ; it is equally destitute of picture- 
galleries, exhibitions, and museums. An occasional 
concert or two enlivens Funchal during the season ; 
but the singers, if not amateurs, must unavoidably 
be third-rate, unless by accident some more famed 
and finished songster or songstress should touch at 
the island on their way to the Brazils, — warbling 
birds of passage ; but it is not likely, as they would 
probably go by the English steamers, whose deten- 
tion is of the very briefest. 

Those who like the water mav indulge in boat- 
ing ; if they are invalids, they often find it recom- 
mended to them, for it is supposed to be beneficial 
here in complaints affecting the chest. A variety 
of very agreeable excursions may be made along 
the coast, and the boats have the reputation of 
being comfortable, nicely clean, and skilfully 
managed. There was once a large-sized theatre, 
that occupied a considerable space in the square, 
at the entrance to the Portaleza. It was destroyed 
in 1833 to facilitate the defences of Funchal, while 
the troops of the Infante Dom Miguel had possession 
of part, or the whole of the island. British mer- 
chants held large shares in this building, but they 
were neither consulted as to its demolition, nor was 
any remuneration subsequently offered to them, 
although it was pulled down by express order of 
the Portuguese government. 

The far-famed Christopher Columbus resided 
for a period on the small neighbouring island of 
Porto Santo, with his wife, who possessed a little 



298 



ABODE OF COLUMBUS. 



property there. During his various trading voyages 
to Madeira, he is supposed to have lodged at a 
house in the corner of the street called the Rua 
Dereita, which leads in the direction of the Carmo. 
This house has, however, been destroyed. It is 
contended by some that the mighty discoverer 
sojourned, on the contrary, in a considerable 
building, situated in Rua do Esmeraldo ; and 
others maintain that it was in one that stood in 
former times not far from the Socorro. Not much 
faith is to be placed in these conflicting opinions and 
statements; perhaps the place of the three the least 
likely to have been the abode of the great navigator 
is the large house in the Rua do Esmeraldo (known 
as the Granel do Poco), both from its size and 
pretensions, which would have made it very little 
likely to have suited one whose modest expenditure 
probably accorded discreetly with his well-known 
limited means, and also from its having been made 
use of as a custom-honse long before the one that 
is employed as such at present was built, at the 
latter end of the sixteenth century. There are some 
singular, ancient buildings, still to be found in this 
city. In the Rua do Boa Viagem there is one, 
which, judging from certain figures sculptured on 
the stones that form the windows, is considered by 
antiquarians to have been formerly the meat-market 
(or the " acougue"). At the western extremity of 
the Praca da ConstituicaS are the half-ruined 
remains of the monastery of St. Francisco, founded 
by the celebrated Zargo. It was the chief religious 
establishment of the kind on the island, the rest 
being dependent upon it. It is now roofless, and 
its walls despoiled of all that may once have enriched 
them. The order of its ancient inmates is sup- 



COMMERCIAL ROOMS. 



299 



pressed, and I believe the edifice is not used for 
any purpose at present. 

When General Beresford was governor of Ma- 
deira in 1808, the buildings belonging to Sao 
Lourenco were considerably remodelled ; the mili- 
tary and civil governors still have their residence 
there. In one of these apartments are various por- 
traits of the earlier captains of Funchal. Amongst 
them is said to be a fine likeness of Zargo, repre- 
senting him spare and serious, long-faced and con- 
templative. 

In addition to the English and Portuguese clubs 
I have mentioned, there is at Funchal an establish- 
ment called the Commercial Rooms, near the pier 
(Caes), where a variety of French, Portuguese, 
English, and American newspapers are received. 
The subscription for a season of six months is on]y 
eight shillings and fourpence ! Books are kept 
there, in which the coming and going of all vessels 
and visitors to the island are carefully entered. 
There is a charming verandah belonging to these 
rooms, where the idler may amuse himself by 
watching the sea, of which there is a noble view. 
There is a library in connexion with the Presby- 
terian Church, and one belonging to the Episcopal 
one, and the yearly subscription to each is merely a 
dollar ! The municipality, or camara, has a library, 
which is supposed to contain at least 1800 volumes, 
and this is opened to the public gratis, daily, from 
nine till three o'clock. Among the books are some 
French and English ones, and some curious MSS. 
from the suppressed monastery of Sa5 Francisco, to- 
gether with many choice and very rare works that had 
previously belonged to it. This library is but little 
known, even by the natives, and the yearly outlay 



300 



STRUCTURE OF THE ENGLISH CHAPEL. 



for new publications amounts to an insignificant sum; 
while there are hardly any who avail themselves of 
the advantages it offers : so that it affords a sufficient 
proof of the little inclination of the Madeirese for 
any pursuits and occupations of an intellectual na- 
ture. There are, I believe, other libraries (not be- 
longing to the natives) in Fanchal. 

I have not yet mentioned the English chapel, 
where service appears to be regularly performed by 
the British chaplain : it is charmingly situated in 
the Rua da Bella Vista. There is, or was, another 
English church, in the Rua da Aranhas. The one 
in the Rua da Bella Vista, which was very near our 
hotel, and to which we went, is a pretty building, 
and has a long garden attached to it. 

Inside it rather shocks the eye at first, from its 
very great resemblance to a theatre, fitted up with 
boxes instead of pews. I was told, but 1 know not 
if correctly, that the stipulation the Portuguese 
government made was, that the little church must 
be as unlike a sacred edifice as possible ; hence 
the striking resemblance to a theatre. The exterior 
has not this defect, and is superior to some in 
England ; — I could not but recollect having seen 
one occasionally there, sadly resembling a petrified 
bathing-machine, or gigantic tea-canister. There is 
a chapel belonging to the Free Church of Scotland 
in the Travessa do Surdo. 



DIVERSITY OF VIEWS. 



301 



CHAPTER XII. 

Every ride or walk almost that we took in the neigh- 
bourhood of Funchal, revealed some fresh beauty to 
us. Sometimes at sunset the glow over the hills was 
magical ; the colours of the heights, blended with 
the colours of the skies, bewildered the eyes with 
loveliness. I believe these hues of the hills arise 
chiefly from the mosses, lichens, heaths, shrubs, and 
wild flowers profusely scattered over them ; and 
also, perhaps, partly from the mellow tints of the 
stones and rocks themselves. 

Whatever may be thought of the pleasantness of 
the island as a sojourn of some months' duration, 
and the attractions it offers, of its mere beauty I 
think there can hardly be any diversity of opinion. 
A man must indeed have a " caractacus " in his 
eye (as a good old soul I once knew used to say of 
one suffering from cataract) if he does not see and 
acknowledge this. I do not say that it is swathed 
in the gorgeous magnificence of the tropics — of the 
Isthmus of Panama, for instance, or parts of that 
wondrous world of beauty, South America, where 
gold and vermilion, and purple and orange, and 
crimson and azure, and violet and green, are con- 
trasting and blending in dazzling splendour and 
overpowering pomp — where coiled, festooned wil- 



302 



FIRST INTRODUCTION TO 



dernesses of creepers, climb and curl about enor- 
mous veterans of the forest, — so tall and vast, that a 
fanciful dreamer might imagine he looked on visible 
pillars of the creation, — till these mighty vegetable 
towers are turned, by their glittering, glowing, 
superb parasites, into trees of gold, or columns and 
domes of very fire, breaking into thousands of 
branching flames — for so they sometimes appear to 
do. It cannot for an instant compete with the 
mountainous world of the awfully-grand, sky-soar- 
ing Andes, or the regions of the stupendous vol- 
canoes that shine and tower above Mexico's land of 
matchless loveliness. I certainly dream not of say- 
ing it can compare with those for half a moment, 
but still it is beautiful, and nobly beautiful, too ; 
and he must assuredly have " caractacuses" in his 
eyes who fails to see it. After taking another 
charming ride the other day, we met our most 

kind friends Lord and Lady N by appointment, 

near the convent of Santa Clara, where we went in 
order to see the celebrated nun Maria Clementina, 
whom Coleridge has immortalised. 

This nun was a beautiful creature, who at an 
early age had been forced into a convent by a stern 
father, I believe at the instigation of a stepmother, 
and she was for some time very miserable. She is 
no longer young, (and I hope no longer miserable,) 
but still are to be traced remains of her once 
brilliant beauty. 

The nunneries and monasteries of this island for- 
merly numbered among them several of the Fran- 
ciscan order, which, indeed, were the principal ones 
of Madeira, including the two convents of Nossa 
Senhora da Encarnacao, and Santa Clara. The 
monasteries were suppressed, and all their posses- 



MARIA CLEMENTINA. 



303 



sions arbitrarily confiscated, by the government, 
in the year 1834, when Madeira fell into the 
hands of the emperor Dom Pedro, on the final 
defeat of his brother, the Infante Dom Miguel. 
At that time the nuns were allowed to come 
forth from their long seclusion, and to mingle 
with their fellow-creatures (in 1822, during the 
brief ascendancy of the Constitutional Govern- 
ment in the island, the same permission had been 
conceded to them), but not very many of the fair 
recluses took advantage of the opportunity which 
might be thought to be so tempting to them. 
I believe Maria Clementina was among those who 
for awhile bade farewell to the austerity and soli- 
tude of the sacred cloisters. However, after a 
slight experience of the sweets and bitters of society 
the sisters renounced the deceitful world, and 
sought refuge again in their tranquil cells and 
enshrouding veils. Poor Clementina was supposed 
to have a very susceptible heart, and to have been 
rather severely wounded by the flower-wreathed 
but poisoned shafts of the little wily archer. How- 
ever that may be, she returned voluntarily to the life 
of retirement she had somewhat gladly quitted 
and re-entered her former abode. There she now 
lives, — in the convent of Santa Clara, whiph stands 
on the site of the Church of Nossa Senhora da 
Conceigad da Cima, the third church erected by 
Zargo, whose bones are said to lie there. It is a 
large, rambling building, overlooking the city ; and 
its possessions now mainly consist of some property 
belonging to the sisterhood in and near the Curral. 

We alighted in the courtyard, and the portress 
took a message from Lady N , who is ac- 
quainted with Maria Clementina, to the effect that 



304 



INTERIOR OF THE CONVENT. 



she had brought some friends with her whom she 
wished to introduce to the amiable recluse. We 
were soon admitted into the sacred building. The 
regulations of the convent were very far from strict, 

and Lord N was allowed to accompany us. 

We were shown into a particularly comfortless 
and dingy -looking apartment, having a grating at 
one end, which grating divided us from a sort of 
alcove, where, shortly afterwards, Sister Clementina 
made her appearance ; her manner was quiet and 
dignified, her countenance pleasing, and the line 
of her face still fine, while her deep dark eyes, 
handsome forehead, and well-chiselled features, 
showed how perfect and superb must have been 
the array of her conquering charms when in the full 
zenith of her beauty. Sister Clementina was at- 
tended by a lady's maid — a lay sister, I believe. The 
latter brought in the artificial flowers when we asked 
to see them, and remained at her mistress' elbow, 
to be ready in case she required her to take any 
message or to afford her any assistance. The Sister 
talked to me partly in French, interspersed w T ith a 
few words of English, partly in Portuguese, and 
partly in Spanish. She seemed much pleased to 
talk of Coleridge, and said she recollected him well, 
and that she had read his remarks about her, and his 
account of her position, her unhappy fate, &c. — that 
some friend had got them translated for her, and 
that, like all in this world, part was false and part 
was true. She emphatically repeated this, as if 
anxious I should remember it. Maria Clementina 
seemed to like reading, and told me she exceedingly 
admired Madame de StaeTs works, particularising 
"Corinne," and, I think, "Delphine;" the former she 
appeared enthusiastically to admire and appreciate. 



CONVENT EMPLOYMENTS. 



305 



She mentioned Lady Morgan, and her writings too, 
probably not being aware of the mauvaise odeurthej 
are in with the Romish Church just now. Her sisters, 
she said, live at Cadiz ; they are not religiemes. 

Among other things, she informed me she had 
lately been ill, and that her medical adviser or- 
dered her to go into the country for a little time, 
thinking that change of air was necessary for the 
re-establishment of her health. She added, she had 
enjoyed it excessively ; the air was so sweet, the 
flowers were so sweet, the songs of the birds were 
so sweet, but liberty was sweeter still. I sup- 
pose, however, if she chose it, there is nothing to 
prevent her leaving the convent now : it was re- 
ported a little while since that she actually had clone 
so (perhaps when she went into the country by order 
of her medical attendant). It is very likely, though, 
that she might in that case have to forfeit some pro- 
perty, and would find herself, in the decline of life, 
friendless and homeless. She said, " Mon papa 
et mes sceurs ont voyage beaucoup; en Italie — en 
Suisse — beaucoup, beaucoup for herself, I believe, 
she had never quitted Madeira. She mentioned a 
nobleman — (a Visconde, I think, — probably the 
one single patrician of Madeira) — as her near rela- 
tive. From all I have heard, I am convinced Sister 
Clementina's biography would be a very curious 
one if it were made public. 

After some more conversation, we begged to see 
the far-famed flowers and fruit so artistically manu- 
factured in this convent. The recluses of the con- 
vent of Santa Clara considerably increase their rather 
slender income by thus industriously fashioning and 
selling wreaths, bouquets, and bunches of artificial 
feather- flowers ; they also make specimens of fruit 

x 



306 FAREWELLS AND SOUVENIRS. 



elaborately executed in wax, and sweetmeats. Sister 
Clementina had sold so many of hers lately that 
there were but a few left bearing her signature ; 
— (each bouquet or floral chaplet had the name 
of the Sister who had made it attached to it.) 
Some of the wreaths bore other names, such as 
" Sister Matilda" and " Sister Ellenore and after 
taking all, or nearly all, of Maria Clementina's, we 
were tempted to purchase some of the graceful pro- 
ductions of the others. Two beautiful single white 
flowers, of Sister Clementina's own manufacture, I 
gladly secured, intending them for a namesake of 
hers, surpassingly lovely, as the fair nun herself once 
was. The sisters assuredly make these garlands of 
flowers beautifully, and handle the dyed feathers so 
skilfully, that they wonderfully resemble the silken- 
soft leaves of real blossoms and buds. 

The nuns of the Convent da Encarnacad also, I 
hear, support themelves in this manner. It seems 
a little inconsistent, perhaps, that those who have 
renounced the vanities of this world, and who pro- 
fess to look with some horror on their hollowness 
and worthlessness, should employ their time in 
ministering to the artificial wants they engender, 
and in encouraging, as far as in them lies, the pam- 
pered tastes of those who still fondly cling to them. 

The grating, at which stood the nuns, in the 
gloomy chamber where we were received, is fitted 
with a kind of roundabout, on which the flowers and 
fruits were deposited, and displayed for our choice. 
After many courteous speeches from Sister Cle- 
mentina, and invitations to visit her again, and in- 
numerable inquiries after and messages to Lady 

N 's charming children (of whom the nun seems 

quite passionately fond), we departed. 



EQUABLE TEMPERATURE. 



307 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The weather all the latter part of the time we 
were at Madeira was exquisitely delicious — neither 
too hot nor too cold ; almost as charming (but not 
quite) as the wonderfully paradoxical climate of 
Lima, that so cleverly contrives to be gay and 
bright without sun, and refreshing and not dry 
without rain. The temperature of night and day 
at Madeira seems to me to vary marvellously little. 
The island has the reputation of being cooler in 
summer and warmer in winter than any of the 
places where our suffering countrymen and country- 
women betake themselves in hopes of enjoying 
renovated health. In fact, the extreme equability 
of the temperature is one of the most remarkable 
characteristics of this little gem of the Atlantic. 
It is not afflicted with the overpowering heat of the 
tropics, neither has it those crowds of noxious in- 
sects and reptiles that often render very warm 
countries so disagreeable. 

You need not be afraid here, that in pulling 
your pocket-handkerchief out of your pocket you 
will pull a huge centipede out with it (as happened 
to one of our party in the other hemisphere) ; nor 
that you will tie a scorpion under your chin with 
your bonnet strings, if you are a lady, or twist it in 



308 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



your cravat round your throat, if you are a gentle- 
man, or affectionately button it inside your waist- 
coat, — a very unnecessary " bosom companion" to 
keep you warm in those passing hot climates ! 

A word or two respecting the vines and wines 
of this island may be not uninteresting to some 
of my readers. I am very ignorant of what is bad 
or good in wine (as I seldom touch it), and, as 
far as I can judge, we tasted only one sort during 
our short stay — the Madeira commonly so called, 
I am disposed to think. This wine is thus named, 
it appears, from its being concocted from a number 
of different kinds of grapes, and thus it cannot be 
called after any one sort in particular. Among 
them are those known as the bastardo, the Mai, 
terrentrez, the tinto, negrinho, and the verdelho 
grapes : these are usually mingled together, and 
produce a white wine, which, if properly managed, 
rightly mixed, and kept for a sufficiently long 
period, is commonly found to be excellent. The 
verdelho grape is supposed to grow in great per- 
fection in the parish of Porto do Cruz, notwith- 
standing that this locality is situated in the north. 
Porto do Cruz, indeed, abounds in vines, whose 
produce is pronounced by judges to be almost 
equal ; and with regard to the verdelho grape, I 
understand, superior to those of the south of the 
island. 

If it was, as I believe, the Madeira that was 
usually supplied to us at dinner, it seemed to me 
much sweeter than what is brought to England, 
and I thought much nicer ; but that, no doubt, is 
a very heretic taste. The Malmsey, that rich white 
wine so well known, is the produce of a vine that 
was originally introduced from Candia, very dif- 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



309 



ficult to rear : a particular temperature is ne- 
cessary to enable it to arrive at perfection, and 
but few situations are found to agree thoroughly 
with it. There are some vineyards, called those 
of Fazenda dos Padres, on the western side 
'of Funchal, where the finest wine of this kind 
is procured. Fazenda dos Padres lies at the 
foot of Cape Giram. To give the sweet flavour, 
the fermentation of the malmsey wine is checked 
at an earlier stage than that of the other wines 
of Madeira. There are various other wines ; 
among them is Tinta, which is dark red, and is 
reckoned to have a Burgundy flavour. If kept two 
years or so, it is accounted a capital substitute for 
port, and is particularly prized for making sanga- 
ree ; but when an attempt is made to keep it 
longer, it becomes deteriorated in taste and colour, 
and possesses no longer the delicate aroma which 
at first distinguishes it. There is also a wine called 
Tinto. Sercial is pronounced by its admirers to 
be the very best, and the wholesomest of all white 
wines here, but needing a great length of time to 
mature it properly. It is curious that the grapes 
that produce it are quite uneatable, — even the 
lizards reject them. The vine from whence the sup- 
ply — a very limited one, consequently — is extracted, 
fails generally, except in a few particular places. 
This vine-plant came originally from Germany, and 
there the learned in such matters assert that it pro- 
duces the Hock. Then there is the Negrinho, a deep 
red and rich wine,, or rather cordial, which is made 
from grapes spread on the house-tiles, and there dried 
by the sun. Maroto is the name of the vine. The 
Bual, like the Tinta, is said to be very rarely met 
with, and little known in England. It is a white 



310 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



wine, delicate, and made from a pale straw-coloured 
grape. There is also a wine called Surdo, or rather, I 
fancy, a kind of liqueur, made from grapes of the most 
thorough ripeness, and of very strong body. The fer- 
mentation is prevented from taking place, and thus 
all the sweetness of the must is retained. Surdo, I 
it is said, has been exported only in limited quan- 
tities, and under the appellation of " Nun's Wine 
but it is now no longer shipped. We will hope 
the " Nuns" take it only medicinally. It is diffi- 
cult to reconcile a strong liqueur with one's ideas 
of a veiled Vestal, who should surely only sip 
water from the crystal spring. 

I believe there are some wines I have omitted 
to mention, but I must plead great ignorance on 
the subject as my excuse. One thing must be 
charming, I think, connected with the famed 
vines and vintage of Madeira, and that is, the 
sight of the beautiful bunches in the season when 
they are ripe, and of the busy, picturesque vintage, 
too, itself. How lovely must some of the vineyards 
look when the ripe rich grapes are hanging in 
abounding profusion on every side ! how beautiful 
must be those vines, loaded with their luxuriant 
produce, that trail themselves in the most graceful 
fashion from bough to bough, amongst the proud, 
lofty chestnut-trees ! how must gleam and glow in 
the sunshine all the long, heavy bunches of the 
" Malvazia Candida," with its great oval grapes 
of a warm bright gold colour ! and how the 
thickly - clustering pendant masses of the darker 
marota must burn with the fervid light, — and the 
rich large fruit of the mellow alicant and muscatel !* 

* The two last, I believe, are confined to gardens. 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



311 



The vintage must be a busy and interesting 
season, when the peasantry engaged in the gather- 
ing swarm round the spots where the precious fruit 
is hanging from the net-work of cane, — swelling 
and sweeping down from the half-concealed trel- 
lises, or drooping from the festoons trailing 
among the leafy chestnut-groves. In the north, 
they are usually thus trained on the chestnut-trees, 
but in this part of the island the trellis-work is, 
perhaps, more common. Under the latter, vege- 
tables of various kinds are cultivated, and weeds 
not extirpated. Altogether, the vines twining 
about the trees look the most picturesque and 
ornamental. The idea is, however, that the nearer 
to the ground the grape grows, the more ex- 
cellent is the fruit, and the better the wine that 
proceeds from it : the strength of the plant ap- 
pears to be concentrated, in short, more in the 
fruit when it is kept low, and not allowed to 
diffuse itself by running up to any height. The 
beginning of September is generally, in the south, 
the time that the vintage takes place, and it is 
usually a fortnight or three weeks later in the 
northern regions; but this depends greatly on 
the elevation and exposure, and other circum- 
stances. After the grapes are gathered, they are 
picked carefully — escolhido, the inferior and re- 
jected ones usually being reserved for the gatherers 
themselves. Those selected are then tossed into 
the wine-press, the lagar^ a clumsy-looking, rough, 
wooden trough, of a large size, where they are trod- 
den and stamped by the feet. 

Perhaps if this process were seen by some lovers 
of wine in our country, where the ideas are nice and 
refined, it might have an effect that all Father 



312 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



Mathew's temperance-lectures would fail utterly to 
produce. 

After the first juice has in this manner been 
drawn off, the remaining heap is all gathered up 
together, and a rope is coiled around, and then a 
lever pressure is applied to this residue ; a tub is 
in readiness to receive the juice, and it is carried 
off to the stores at once, in goat-skins ; — arrived 
there, for the purposes of fermentation, it is poured 
into casks. This lasts generally, in an active state, 
for about five weeks. Water, in tolerably large 
quantities, is poured into the press after the juice 
has been extracted, and the refuse is subjected 
to the same treatment. This second process 
yields the " foot-water," the " agoa pe," in short, 
the dregs : this is a beverage which the poorer 
classes here are exceedingly partial to ; but it is 
reckoned unwholesome, and often occasions severe 
diarrhoea, and particularly if it is incautiously drank 
subsequently to the fermentation having commenced, 
which sometimes is unfortunately the case, as the 
peasants, I fear, but too often, are heedless and 
careless in this respect. 

After the cessation of the fermentation, the wine 
is drawn off the lees, and is straightway transferred 
(or racked, I believe, is the term) into other casks ; 
it is then clarified with ox-blood, eggs, or yet more 
commonly gypsum ; a couple of gallons of brandy, 
or thereabouts, having been first added to each pipe, 
in order to prevent the acetous fermentation from 
taking place. Indeed, in this and after stages of 
the proceedings considerable care is generally re- 
quisite, as the wine is liable to undergo a second 
fermentation. The gypsum with which it is fined 
is usually brought from either Porto Santo or 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



313 



Spain. As regards the more delicate sorts of wine, 
the quality of the brandy that is used to fortify it 
is of great consequence, and some is spoilt from the 
absence of really first-rate brandy. French eau de 
vie is prohibited, except in bottles at a high duty, 
and the best that can be procured at Madeira, for 
the purposes I have mentioned, is made from the 
Porto Santo wine. 

For the first four or five years no wine is pro- 
duced from the grapes. After that, it appears, the 
average yield is one pipe per acre, or thereabouts ; 
although, under highly -favourable circumstances, 
the English acre will perhaps produce four pipes 
of wine. Should the summer be a dry one, it 
is necessary or advisable to have the ground 
watered about thrice from the tanks in the neio-h- 
bourhood of the vineyards : these tanks are made 
at a considerable expense. Numerous situations, 
that are not taken advantage of in the island, are 
supposed by competent judges to be particularly 
favourable for the cultivation of vines, but they are 
found unavailable through the deficiency of water. 
This might be remedied by laying down pipes ; 
and there is little doubt but that the proprietor 
would soon find himself amply indemnified for the 
expenses incurred by such a proceeding. 

The vines here are propagated by cuttings 
planted in the ground at a depth of from three to 
seven feet. On the kind of soil depends the depth 
of the trenches. The total quantity of wine an- 
nually produced by this island is somewhere about 
25 or 30,000 pipes, of which one-third, perhaps, 
may be exported. This, however, according to some 
authorities, is an excessive estimation. 15,363 
pipes were shipped from Madeira in English ves- 



314 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



sels only in 1809 : the sum total of what was im- 
ported into England in that year was above 
639,000 gallons. A rapid decrease of the demand 
for these particular wines has been observed of 
late years in our country. Although the taste 
for the vintage of Madeira has so palpably 
diminished in Great Britain, it has not done so in 
some other countries. By returns from America, it 
is observed that the quantity imported into the 
United States from England, and also from Madeira 
direct, increased actually from 101,176 gallons, in 
1S45, to 303,125 in 1S50: this being 201,949 
gallons, or about 200 per cent in five years. 

Some years back the Madeira wines fell into 
particular disfavour, and, from peculiar circum- 
stances, gave sufficient grounds for this change 
of opinion and taste among those who had at one 
time greatly patronised the vintage of the island ; 
for during the lengthened period of the war that 
came to a conclusion in 1814, the demand for the 
wine by vessels putting in here was enormous, so 
that all the superior kinds were very rapidly sold. 
Thus the remaining quantities in the lodges were 
only the inferior northern wines, which have the 
repute, or disrepute, of possessing considerable 
acidity ; and which are, besides, much poorer — in 
fact, altogether of far less excellent quality. The 
proprietors, however, could not resist the tempta- 
tion of availing themselves of the opportunity that 
offered itself to them of furnishing those with a 
prompt supply, who gave orders for wine at 70/. 
or 80/. per pipe, notwithstanding that wine of 
20/. per pipe was all that remained there for them 
to dispose of ; such, in truth, being its full value. 
They had recourse, then, to artificial means, to 



WINES OF MADEIRA. 



315 



overcome as much as possible the harshness of 
flavour and the before -mentioned acidity of these 
wines. For this purpose the stoves {estufas) were 
introduced, in order that by keeping the wine in a 
shut-up, confined place — at perhaps a temperature 
of one hundred degrees — it might acquire a pre- 
mature and false mellowness, and have a deceptive 
appearance of age. It is generally thought that 
such forcing has the effect of deteriorating the 
natural real flavour of all wines ; and it is more 
than suspected that, since the time it was first 
essayed, it has been applied, in turn, to wines of 
all classes. No aftercare and management is said 
to restore the genuine flavour when it has thus 
been injured and affected. Persons who under- 
stand the subject consider that the heat of the 
stove, or est/ifa, if more gradually applied, con- 
tinued longer, and with more judicious modera- 
tion, might prove beneficial, and produce results 
such as a voyage to the East or West Indies 
and back is generally found to do, which is 
usually reckoned the most excellent method of 
improving wine, and bringing it to a highly perfect 
state. Some writers assert, that in consequence 
of the manner in which the inferior description 
of wines are forced in stoves, they often acquire 
a smoky and dry flavour, which is never quite 
eradicated subsequently. Of this description of 
wine vast quantities are yearly shipped to 
Hamburg, at which place, after it has been 
submitted to a process that makes it much re- 
semble Hock, it is disposed of as such ; and it is 
conjectured a considerable portion of this counter- 
feit Hock is sent to the British market. With re- 
gard to the wines that are produced along the 



316 



VINES VERSUS VERMIN. 



southern coast of Madeira, they are supposed to be 
rarely, if at all, equalled, in delicacy of flavour, 
aroma, purity, and softness. As to the principal 
grapes and wines of the island, the grapes are never 
exported, and a large proportion of the wines are 
very little indeed known out of the country. 

The rats and lizards are connoisseurs in the 
grapes, if not in the generous liquor extracted from 
them. The vintage, which not only, of course, 
varies with the season as well as with the locality, 
commonly, as I said, takes place in September. 
Those places where the sun shines with most 
power ordinarily take the lead in this interesting 
operation. As the gathering of the rich ripe grapes 
progresses along the warm sides of the valley, the 
knowing lizards and the dons vivants of rats, which 
muster in numerous legions, closely follow. A 
cultivator cannot preserve his fruit upon the vines 
after the surrounding proprietors have chosen to 
have theirs plucked, unless he make up his mind 
to risk a very heavy and serious diminution of his 
anticipated profits. Those jolly rats and lizards 
bolt vast quantities of the precious fruit. It 
is supposed they display a decided partiality for 
the Tinta grape, in the juice of which, it is sur- 
mised, they toast the fair ladies who reign 
supreme in their hearts and holes, kindling the 
former, and shedding the light of their whiskered 
beauty over the latter, however dark and gloomy. 
Many a fast young rat drains there a bumper of 
that Burgundy juice to the lovely dame of his devo- 
tion, — she of the faultless snout, the graceful whisk 
of whose tail is madness — whose exquisite squeak is 
rapture or sudden death — whose enchanting com- 
plexion of the tenderest hoary or miry tint — clear 



VINES VERSUS VERMIN. 



317 



as mud itself — is confusion and chaos, — to whom 
he had offered his paw and fortune, and for whom 
he would fight and bite to the last extremity ; for 
whose sake, too, if this " nut-brown maid" rejects 
his homage, he will leave, perhaps, his native shores 
for ever, and take a passage in the hold of the 
first ship that starts, with despair gnawing at his 
heart, and he gnawing at the tough, rough faces of 
the sleeping tars. 



318 



A PRETTY SIGHT. 



CHAPTER XTV. 



I saw a pretty sight one day at Funchal, — a palan- 
quin full of children, dressed out in gay, fantastical, 
fete-day finery, with little bare heads and uncovered 
throats, the former simply ornamented, perhaps, 
with a pretty flower, carried along the streets, all 
smiles and gladness ; and this at Christmas time. 
They have a fashion here of sometimes fastening a 
number of palanquins together : at least I saw one 
day, in Funchal, four of these conveyances strung 
like oddly-shaped huge beads on one very long 
pole, at convenient distances one after the other. 
As the moment of our departure drew near, we felt 
more and more sorry to leave this pleasant place. 
How lovely looked the charming vicinity of the town 
during our last pleasant ride ! All was bathed in 
sunshine, from the purple hills to the tasselled 
spires of the sugar-cane. All seemed clad in smiles, 
from the surface of the clear blue sky to the face of 
the cheerful -looking young peasant, standing in 
the road, with his carapuca slightly leaning to the 
right side, and his light jacket flung jauntily over 
his left shoulder a la Jioussard ; and to the beaming 
countenance of the tripping damsel, hurrying by, 
with carapuca also pointing over her dark brow, 
and, like the stripling's, partially inclining to one 



LIGHT AND SHADE. 



319 



side, — and to the merry eyes of her companion, 
too, with a curious coiffure of four or five large 
empty baskets, cunningly placed the one over 
the other, the upper ones being turned topsy- 
turvy, as this steady world itself often is (almost 
as empty, too, apparently, sometimes) on the 
shoulders of old Atlas. Was all clad in sun- 
shine ? No : ever and anon we met some poor 
half-starved-looking beings, that seemed like sha- 
dows flitting upon that bright surface. Haggard, 
squalid, they seemed; and the poor, thin children, 
that paced slowly beside them, if ever they had 
known what it was to have three meals in a day, it 
must have been, as says the New- York Dutchman, 
rye* meal, Indian meal, and mealy potatoes assuredly. 
How gaunt and livid is that skeleton of a girl, of 
seventeen or eighteen 1 Famine has written " early 
death" in fearful characters round her sunken eyes 
and ghastly brow. Poor thing ! her attire is but rags 
and tatters — rather too much " open work," as some 
writer says of one whose array was equally ventilated 
and marked by long interregnums. This poor starve- 
ling is talking to another, who, while not exhibiting 
such marks of evident inanition, displays a similar 
tatterdemalion toilette, which the utmost delicacy 
could not describe, with any regard to truth, as 
" demi-toilette," it being, in fact, not even half-a- 
quarter of a toilette. Yet perhaps, if the definition 
of a wit some years back is true, it is more like full 
dress, after all. " Undress," said he, " is being 
decently clothed ; while full dress is no dress at all 
— worth speaking of:" or something to that effect. 
While the poor girl's positively needful apparel 
is thus limited, perchance at home she has articles 
of jewellery — chains of very pure gold. It 



320 



THE TRAMMELS OF LAW. 



would appear, however, that this is not only 
from a love of such ornaments, or a reverence 
for old heir-looms : there are other causes at 
work. But very few of the peasantry here, it is 
true, succeed in accumulating a sufficient sum of 
money to lift them a little above the rest of their 
neighbours and fellows, or to realise, after years of 
hard work and self-denial, even a comfortable and 
respectable competency ; however, unfortunately 
for them, when they do contrive by perseverance 
and steady labour to secure a modest independence, 
they find but very rare and scanty openings for the 
accumulation or the investment of the little sum 
their industry has amassed. It is very seldom that 
they can become the purchasers of land separate 
from the " bemfeitorias " (or improvements) with 
which it is generally saddled. They have no banks 
in the island ; thus they are debarred the advantage 
of placing the money they have earned in savings'- 
banks. On any land that is under the "vinculo" 
there can be no mortgages. The vinculo is a perpetual 
entail of lands and houses on the natural heirs, sup- 
posing such to exist, or on any other persons, and 
on their heirs for ever, in other cases, on the con- 
dition of their discharging the expenses requisite 
for the performance of specified masses, and dis- 
pensing particular alms for the good of the souls 
of those with whom the entail originated, and 
their family. After these conditions had been 
complied with, the remainder of the property 
passed into the hands of the possessor for life, 
and, according to the conditions attached to the 
vinculo, it descended in succession to his heirs, 
either male or female, both or one : if they failed, the 
possessions reverted entirely to the crown. While the 



BEMFEITORI AS . 



321 



entail continued, the estate could not be charged in 
any manner whatsoever. " It could not be let," says 
Dr. Peacock, " for a period extending beyond four 
years of the life in possession, or beyond eighteen 
years of the same event, with the especial consent 
of the heir next in succession, who claimed the rent, 
in both cases, when he succeeded to the inheritance. 
No provision could be made for the other members 
of the family. The estate continued for ever a life- 
possession, and a life-possession only, in the strictest 
sense of the term. Provision was, however, made 
by the laws for granting building leases, provided 
the benefit which the estate received was entirely 
secured to the inheritance. Such grants were only 
resumable upon the repayment of the sums expended 
upon the improvement of the property, whether in 
the erection of buildings or any other useful im- 
provement. They came, in fact, under the general 
law of " bemfeitorias," &c. In addition to all this, 
the condition of the Portuguese law, and also the 
customs of the people themselves, contribute to 
render loans of every species unsafe, and more 
particularly so with government security. It is in 
consequence of this combination of circumstances 
that the country people — partly, probably, from 
prudential motives, and partly from following 
ancient customs — commonly invest whatever little 
money they may have industriously accumulated 
in trinkets and ornamental articles, the gold chains 
being, perhaps, most in favour. A new link is 
gladly attached to this when their savings have 
been considerable, or one is less willingly ab- 
\ stracted when it is necessary to " raise the wind." 
It is most likely this custom was originally adopted 
from the mother-country, where it is not very rare 

Y 



322 



DRESS AND DECORATION. 



to find indigent women, who cannot boast of having 
a shoe to their feet, the possessors of gold neck- 
laces and ornaments, with which they occasionally 
decorate their persons, while the rest of their apparel 
we might perhaps discreetly describe as barely cover- 
ing them. In the meantime, some of their articles 
of gold and jewellery are of very considerable value, 
the gold being exceedingly pure. An English 
lady, resident at Oporto, once engaged in her 
household a servant-girl, who was recommended 
to her, I believe, as one very competent to un- 
dertake the situation she was to fill, and who in 
reality proved herself to be so ; but the lady of 
the house was vexed at observing that she trotted 
about generally barefooted. She spoke to the dam- 
sel, and expressed her wonder that she should thus 
consider it decent to go about unshod. The maid 
reciprocated her astonishment, declaring that, as 
she often wore stockings, she was inclined to think 
she had sufficiently studied the extraordinary and 
preposterous requirements of Anglo-Saxon scrupu- 
losity. Time wore on, and other things wore 
out ; and the mistress of this establishment was 
grieved to observe rapidly creeping into — or rather 
out of — notice, remarkable shortcomings in the 
petticoat arrangements of the same female do- 
mestic, accompanied by serious fallings off from 
the shoulders, in consequence of the ragged state 
of the wardrobe, together with various other de- 
ficiencies and failures. It became necessary to 
have another conversation on the clothing question, 
and the lady kindly volunteered to supply the poor 
damsel with some ready cash, to be converted as 
soon as possible into cotton or calico. Upon this 
hint she spake, and, tossing her head somewhat dis- 



MADEIRA PEASANTRY. 



323 



dainfully, begged her mistress to do her the favour 
for a moment to inspect her trunk. That lady 
straightway complied, in some incertitude and sur- 
prise. When the maid opened her box, she dis- 
played a collection of beautiful and splendid gold 
necklaces, declaring she felt a little hurt at the lady 
thus offering her an advance of wages or a present, 
when she was the lawful owner of such costly 
articles of jewellery ; and adding, that if her apparel 
were not exactly such as suited the capricious taste 
of the foreign lady, it was most unquestionably not 
from any deficiency on her own part of the where- 
withal to obtain an additional supply. 

To return to the Madeira peasantry. To give 
a little insight into their state, I will quote from 
the same author again. He says that, according to 
the old law, " the union of several vinculos consti- 
tuted a morgado, a term applied in the Portu- 
guese language both to the possessor and the 
possession. The effect of these perpetual entails, 
whether due to the influence of the Church, or to 
the passion so natural to mankind to transmit their 
name and influence, in connexion with their posses- 
sions, to their most distant posterity, was the ab- 
sorption of nearly the whole territory, — which was 
not in the possession of the Crown or the municipa- 
lities, or of charitable or religious establishments, — 
in the hands of the morgados. Their further insti- 
tution, however, was forbidden by a law of Dom 
Jose the First, of the 3d August, 1770, under the 
bold but generally wise administration of the Marquis 
de Pombal, who declared the system to be ' con- 
trary to the just rights of property, and to the just 
claims of the other members of the family.' A still 
more serious assault upon the system was made by 



324 



PROPERTY LAWS. 



the law of Dom Pedro, of the 4th of April, 1832, 
which allowed the removal of the entail from every 
separate vinculo which could be certified by the 
proper authorities to be less in value than two hun- 
dred dollars a-year, and from any morgado or 
union of vinculos of less than twice the amount. 
Recent decisions of the tribunals have given a more 
extended effect to this law than it was probably first 
intended to possess, by applying it to the separate 
morg ados united in the same proprietor, however 
much their joint amount might exceed the inferior 
limit, of value which it imposed. The effect of this 
law is already beginning to be felt in sales of land 
to English and other capitalists. So rapid, likewise, 
of late years, has been the depreciation of the value 
of wine — the staple produce of the island — that very 
few estates will be long exempted from its operation. 
It is difficult, in the absence of statistical details, to 
ascertain the quantity of land which is under the 
operation of the vinculo; but I should conclude, 
from the best information which I could procure, 
that it still embraces nearly four-fifths of the culti- 
vated lands. * * * * The greatest part of 
the mountain pasture is the property of the muni- 
cipal bodies, or cameras of the different parishes, 
and is commonable by all the occupiers of land 
within their limits. So defective, however, is the 
execution of the law in every part of the island, that 
all these districts are treated as common property, — 
whether for pasturing cattle or collecting fuel, by 
cutting furze, broom, brushwood, or timber, — 
without any system or control. It is from this 
cause that the forests in the mountains are rapidly 
disappearing without a chance of being replaced by 
new timber, for the goats and cattle, which are 



LANDLORD AND TENANT. 



325 



allowed to wander everywhere without restraint, 
effectually destroy the young shoots as soon as they 
may appear." The author adds in a note, that he 
heard great complaints, when in Madeira, on the 
subject, and various projects were discussed for the 
purpose of preventing such depredations in future. 
He considers, however, the provisions of the law as 
it stands at present fully sufficient to effect this, 
but they are, unfortunately, not properly en- 
forced. I believe it is the same author who re- 
marks that the peculiar tenure of land here 
is the same that, to a certain extent, prevails in 
parts of Portugal, Italy, and Spain, and observes 
that it is a relique of the empire and the agricul- 
tural system of the ancient Romans. It appears 
there are no books in the Portuguese language that 
enter into circumstantial accounts on the subject, 
and no published statistical details. What there is, is 
in MSS., which it is difficult to obtain a glimpse of. 
If the codes of the Portuguese law, he asserts, were 
properly carried into execution, as they are admir- 
able in principle, so they might be beneficial in 
their operation, and highly effective ; but their ad- 
ministration is generally marked by most unjustifi- 
able and extreme irregularity and imperfection, and 
it continually places the theory and the practice in 
remarkable contrast with each other, and some- 
times in important cases. 

Formerly the morgados often resided in vast and 
most splendid country-houses, with chapels attached 
to them, where those masses which were positively 
required by their original deed of foundation gene- 
rally were performed. Their tenantry looked on 
them as their feudal chiefs and their masters ; in- 
deed, the caseiro, or occupier, still is accustomed to 



326 



REVOLUTIONARY CHANGES. 



speak of his morgado as " my master," — meu amo. 
They used to present him with poultry during 
Christmas, eggs at Easter, and a part of every 
porker's head that was doomed to the knife. They 
also were wont to offer a portion of their produce 
to their feudal lord upon the occasion of his nup- 
tials, and the auspicious event of an heir's birth. 
When he passed from his country quinta to his 
town mansion, they dutifully attended to carry his 
palanquin ; and as there were no waggons at Ma- 
deira, his luggage-hammock, also his "fourgon" on 
poles, unless, indeed, they bore all the baggage piled 
on their shoulders. It was not solely or wholly, how- 
ever, as a necessary duty and obligation that such as- 
sistance was given, but might be rather considered 
as emanating spontaneously from deeply-seated senti- 
ments of regard and reverential esteem, such as do not 
always, it is true, but ever should, unite a landlord 
with his tenantry. A great change took place 
during and -after the revolutionary commotions of 
1821. These kindly and primitive relations be- 
tween the lofty and the lowly underwent a sweeping 
alteration, and those changes finally led to the ex- 
tirpation of all such feudal feelings and usages. The 
quintas of the morgados were soon partially deserted 
and left to decay and dilapidation. 

The troops and party of Dom. Miguel occupied 
the island for several years. Many of the wealthiest 
and most distinguished morgados were doomed to 
expatriation for having been disposed to espouse the 
part of the Constitutionalists ; and this very natu- 
rally tended to the complete obliteration of the scanty 
traces of their former influence and their long-esta- 
blished authority, and the wreck of their homes. 
Their incomes, too, were considerably reduced about 



EFFECTS OF REVOLUTION. 327 

the same time by the fall in the price of their wine. 
Thus impoverished, they were no longer able to 
keep up a scale of expenditure commensurate with 
their pretensions and position. Not only wine, but 
perhaps all other articles of the island produce, 
were readily sold for, at least, twice their pre- 
sent price during the period of the war and the 
British occupation, when Madeira was constantly 
the resort of the men-of-war, the convoys, and the 
great East India fleets. 

The result was, that, driven by their necessities, 
the once wealthy proprietors began to forestal their 
revenues, in numerous cases, by disposing of the re- 
version of their crops, for longer or lesser periods, 
— sometimes several years, — to foreign merchants. 
Much mischief was produced by this. Improve- 
ment was at a stand-still ; their oppressed tenantry 
were gradually embittered and alienated, and, at 
last, former sentiments of attachment were utterly 
eradicated by harsh treatment and ill-considered 
measures, the great object of the masters being 
to repair their wasted fortunes, while they did not 
adopt the most judicious methods of attaining that 
end. 

At length their detached rural habitations 
were mostly left tenantless, as such residences 
became actually insecure, in many instances, to 
those sojourning in them, and those who re- 
mained could no longer afford to decorate their 
homes, or to keep them up with care and pro- 
per attention. A few of the more prudent mor- 
gaclos are still affluent, and in prosperous circum- 
stances. They • seized the advantage of coining 
into possession of their estates, relieved from any 
responsibility, and from the debts that might have 



328 



CONDE DE CARVALHAL. 



been incurred by their predecessors, and also 
without mortgage or incumbrance of any kind for 
the maintenance of other branches of the family. 
Although not compelled to support them, however, 
the owner of the estate seldom leaves his near rela- 
tions to penury, and, except in very few instances, 
he provides properly for them, and evinces a due 
sense of natural obligation by conscientiously ful- 
filling those duties which he might with impunity 
neglect, were he so disposed. The great depre- 
ciation, however, lately in the price of the chief 
commodity of the place, has seriously lessened the 
incomes of the most opulent landowners of Madeira. 
The proprietor has but a life-estate, and, unfortu- 
nately, he has very seldom the ability (even if he 
possessed the inclination and the energy requisite 
for the task), to improve it. With regard to the 
cultivation of the land, — save in a few isolated in- 
stances, — he is not permitted to have any voice in 
the matter. The tenant is almost independent of 
him, in fact ; and to that tenant belongs solely and 
wholly whatever improvements, cultivation, care, and 
occupation may have bestowed upon it. 

There are generally a very considerable number 
of distinct occupations in these estates, and they are 
often at a long distance from each other, considering 
the small size of the island. This renders it neces- 
sary often to lease, in Madeira, to a " rendeiro" the 
proprietors' rights. Of course this is usually inju- 
rious to the true interest of both morgados and 
tenants. The late Conde de Carvalhal, the owner of 
the camellia-groves (where that beautiful tree attains 
a height of from forty to fifty or sixty feet), and per- 
haps the wealthiest landlord in Madeira, was for- 
merly wont to spend a great deal of money on his 



COSTS OF CULTIVATION. 



329 



splendid gardens, and on other parts of his property 
— keeping the labourers in employment, and paying 
them highly for their work. Under his guidance the 
peasantry began to improve, and it appears they 
acquired more energy, more economical habits, and 
altogether lived far more comfortably and respect- 
ably. The poor man was for some time expatriated, 
on account of his siding, I believe, with the Con- 
stitutionalists ; but, while he remained on his estates, 
he had done a great deal of real good. He died, 
leaving, unfortunately, a young minor for his heir, 
who resides, or resided, in Portugal, and whose 
guardians have leased his large estates to an in- 
fluential and wealthy person living in Funchal ; 
portions were sold or squandered. Circumstances 
oblige this gentleman to exert the rights that the 
law allows him with some severity. This case is 
an exceedingly common one in Madeira, and absen- 
teeism, as usual, produces bad fruits ; and altoge- 
ther the condition of the labouring classes is a 
melancholy one, in consequence, partly, of the 
existing laws, and partly of the impoverished re- 
sources of a considerable number of the chief pro- 
prietors of the island. The complete repeal of the 
vinculo has been contemplated ; perhaps it may be 
effected by the time I write this. There is said to 
be much eagerness, and no little exaggeration of 
feeling and opinion, respecting it. 

A slight brochure, published some few years 
back by A. Heredia, and called " Breves Re- 
flexiones sobre a Abolicao dos Morgados na Ma- 
deira," does not treat these morgados very hand- 
somely, and lays all that blame upon them which, 
probably, even-handed Justice, with her eyes duly 
bandaged, would be very apt to distribute among 



330 



DEFECTS OF CULTIVATION. 



many persons and things. After alluding to pre- 
vious high prices for vinous produce, and flourish- 
ing times, he says, " the morgados cared not for 
any other kind of cultivation whatsoever ; they 
rested their heads on their couches, and slept the 
sleep of the sluggard, awaking only to squander 
their substance and wealth in shameless, contemp- 
tible frivolity and dissipation. To the poor, un- 
educated ' Colono,' agriculture was left, — he under- 
stood alone the culture of the vine ; and even 
that, perhaps, but very little. In general, being 
forced to expatriate themselves on Dom Miguel's 
usurpation, the proprietors found themselves ruined 
on their return, as the culture of the vine has for 
some time become, both for the morgado and 
'colono/ a business more of expenditure, often, 
than of profit. In fact, if we carefully count up 
the serious cost of planting and pruning, caning, 
trenching, and of irrigating the vines, of gathering 
and collecting the fruit, of keeping up walls in order 
to prevent the soil being carried away by the im- 
petuous rains, of yielding the tithe to the govern- 
ment, and also of paying different taxes and fees 
before exportation, — it will be very evident that 
little is left over and above for the ill-fated culti- 
vator, whether in compensation for his toil or of 
the expenses of his necessary improvements. The 
proprietor, again, receives only a scanty price if he 
disposes of his portion of the produce to the mer- 
chant, or, if he cannot manage this, as very fre- 
quently happens, and is obliged to transfer it to his 
stores, he has to discharge successively the heavy 
expenses of store-room, of casks, of emptying out 
the wine from one set of casks to pour it into 
another, of brandy, of the estufa (of the use of 



WANT OF ENERGY. 



331 



which I have already made mention), besides other 
charges. All these expenses swallow up, in less 
than a couple of years, more than half the value 

of the produce." He suggests this remedy : 

" But only abolish the morgados, and you will find 
agricultural prosperity and credit at once re-estab- 
lished; abolish them, and you will see the pro- 
prietors possessed of proper means for the cultiva- 
tion of their estates. Do this, and you will find 
the people existing in abundance, in place of 
being half starved; the landlord rich, who was 
needy ; and the population increased, which want 
had tended to diminish considerably." If we are 
to place reliance in these statements, it seems 
the " colono " is too destitute of knowledge, and the 
landlord too indigent, the one to try new methods 
of cultivation to replace that of the vine, and the 
other to pay expenses incidental to such improve- 
ments and alterations. This is, doubtless, all greatly 
overstated and exaggerated, and the measure pro- 
posed might require much modification and revision. 
Other means and methods have been suggested, as 
likely to make a beneficial reform in this lovely little 
island. It is supposed a great deal of good would 
be effected by the substitution of the system of 
money rents for that of the division of the produce. 
If the payment of such rents was capable of being 
duly and properly enforced, it might become beneT 
ficial in the result both to the owner and the occupier, 
and the system of having middlemen and factors, — 
almost always an expensive, cumbrous, and oppres- 
sive arrangement, and one leading to tyranny and 
injustice, would be no longer necessary. 

It is certainly a great pity that nothing should 
be done in order that the land may be cultivated 



332 



RAPID GROWTH OF PINES. 



properly, on a system and on a scale that might 
afford a fair means of judging of its real productive 
power ; and perhaps, then, the population might be 
delivered from that wretchedness and squalor into 
which they are now but too often evidently plunged. 

It appears that the tenants' occupations, or 
farms, are usually exceedingly diminutive : the 
number of subdivisions is extraordinary. Some 
writers have stated that there are, probably, twenty- 
four thousand tenantftn Madeira,* and this, be it 
remembered, out of a population of not quite one 
hundred and twenty thousand. This is thought, 
however, to be an excessive calculation ; if correct, 
five out of six adult males must be occupiers : but, in 
truth, nearly every domestic servant, groom, (burri- 
queiro), mechanic, horse-keeper, and other indivi- 
duals of the inferior classes, is the master of some 
occupation, insignificant in size, but sufficient for 
him to grow thereon his few grape-vines, his vege- 
tables, some sugar-canes, sw T eet potatoes, and 
orange-trees, or peach-trees, and fig-trees, so -that 
he may literally rest under the shade of his own 
fig-tree. He may also, perhaps, have a little barley 
or wheat in this scrap of ground of very diminutive 
size; cramped and confined as the whole pigmy 
possession is, however, it is generally much ne- 
glected. 

Slight would be the labour required, and little 
the time needed for the careful cultivation of this 
patch, but the crop it most plentifully produces, 
perhaps, is one of tares : in the meantime, the 
different vegetables, grain, vines, canes, and trees, 
are confusedly mingled and massed together, and 

* The Conde de Cairalhal was said to "have eight thousand 
tenants. 



THE TREES OF MADEIRA. 



333 



very much left to their own devices, and to the 
maternal attentions of that great parent, Nature. 
One thing, however, is to be said for this apparent 
gross negligence : the weeds, in Madeira, are often 
gathered and collected, and then, together with 
banana-branches, vine - cuttings, pieces of sugar- 
cane, and of other plants and shrubs, they are 
carried off to the next market, and sold as fodder 
for the cattle and mules — in short, they are looked 
upon not merely as necessary, but as positively 
desirable, accompaniments to the other articles ; 
they are picked away, in the hot season, from the 
ground that intervenes between the vines, where 
they might be injurious, but in the midst of the 
grain crops these spontaneous accompanying appur- 
tenances grow unmolested, like "good weeds apace. 5 ' 

The Spanish chestnut, which is met with in 
almost every direction in Madeira, is valuable as 
affording a useful article of food for the people, as 
well as supplying a support for the vines in the 
north; it is one of the latest trees in the island, 
rarely putting forth its leaves till towards the mid- 
dle of May. The non-decidnous trees, which 
were alone, or nearly so, indigenous here, have 
been very largely replaced by deciduous ones. 
The plane, the w r alnut-tree, and the oak, have been 
introduced here with great success. 

Among the hills the pine exhibits great rapidity 
of growth. A certain Seiior D'Ornellas, who occu- 
pies a considerable tract of mountain-land, not far 
from the capital, has covered his estate with 
splendid pine woods. 

The Chinese, Australian, and Japanese trees, 
are found generally to grow admirably here, and 
especially on the high lands, about two thousand 



334 



MADEIRA FRUITS 



feet above tlie ocean. I believe this is the case 
in the gardens of a gentleman whose acquaint- 
ance I had the pleasure of making, Mr. S tod- 
dart, the British Consul, and in those of Mr. 
Veitch, at the Jardim da Serra ; these last are 
very near the Curral. Mr. Stoddart's gardens are 
in the neighbourhood of the Mount Church. The 
tea-plant is very successfully cultivated in the 
"Garden of the Mountain-Forest" (Jardim da 
Serra) by Mr. Veitch, and its produce entirely suf- 
fices for the use of his family and household. 

Perhaps more than the half of the surface of 
Madeira is found at an elevation of about two 
thousand five hundred feet above the sea, or be- 
yond that. At this height, usually, cultivation 
stops. Occasionally a few rye crops may flourish 
tolerably at the higher levels, but commonly the 
summer heats and droughts, the furious tempests, 
and the infertility of the soil (without irrigation 
effected by art), render it almost a futile experi- 
ment to attempt it. 

The trees from the Southern hemisphere still are 
said obstinately to retain, in all their changes, a 
most scrupulous allegiance to their own native sea- 
sons. Thus our winter constitutes their summer. 
There is a considerable range of climate within 
whose limits the same plants and trees will grow, 
but no period of time will be found perfectly 
to acclimatise them, or to alter and modify their 
times of fruit -bearing, or of putting forth leaves and 
blossoms, so as to suit the novel conditions of the 
strange climate, and of the very different seasons 
of those lands, of which they have become the 
adopted denizens. 

In this manner some of our own fruit-trees, in 



AND VEGETABLES. 



335 



England, that were originally transferred from more 
favourable climes, persist and persevere in flower- 
ing during the tyrannous reign of our nipping sharp 
Aprils and Mays, and the produce is very frequently 
only rescued from an untimely end by artificial 
assistance and help. Sometimes it is hopelessly 
ruined. It is well known how often we have to 
mourn over frustrated tarts and diminished des- 
serts, — abandoned by our apricots, — bereaved of 
our well-beloved green-gages. 

The best and richest soils here are generally 
found either at the base of the ravines or in low 
situations near the sea. The heavy rains, which 
are ordinarily furious when they do come, sweep 
the looser vegetable soils with astonishing precipi- 
tancy down the more abrupt declivities. On the 
steeper portions of the land the soil, in parts, is 
solely kept in a state of cultivation by the artificial 
aid of the terraces and walls that succeed each other 
closely ; often, perhaps, within the distance of a 
very few feet. 

These walls and terraces serve a double pur- 
pose ; they divide the different small occupations 
from each other, and they defend the soil from the 
furious assaults of the down-pouring streams of 
water. 

Madeira is surpassed by few countries in the rich 
abundance and great diversity of its fruits, though 
but little care is bestowed upon their cultivation. 
The trees are rarely pruned, and very seldom en- 
grafted : in short, they are left to Nature ; and, 
though the quantity is vast, the quality is usually 
anything but fine. The array of names is imposing, 
but, perhaps, on the whole, they look better on 
paper than on a dessert plate. There are oranges, 



336 DIVERSITY OP FRUITS AND VEGETABLES. 



pears, apples, apricots, peaches, plums, nectarines, 
jambro (rose-apples), cherries, strawberries, Cape 
gooseberries, medlars, mulberries, guavas, pine- 
apples, melons, custard-apples, lemons, citrons, 
bananas, pomegranates, currants, bilberries, grapes, 
walnuts, prickly-pears, figs, grenadillas, mangoes, 
coffee, &c. The pine-apple is not at all good here. 
The bilberries and currants, and some others, are 
grown on the hills. The custard-apple and its 
congeners bring their fruit to maturity, as I before 
mentioned, in the winter time; and in the summer 
they change their leaves without respect to the varia- 
tion or reversal of the season in passing the Equator. 
The trees that are deciduous in the northern regions 
do not cease to be so when transferred to localities 
where the indigenous trees are undeciduous. 

The autumn continues to be their chosen season 
for divesting themselves of their foliage, and their 
foliation is, after their usual interval of rest in the 
spring, frequently, strange to say, not quickened by 
the additional influences of cloudless sun and heat. 
At that season, the slowness of vegetation in the 
island, comparatively speaking, astonishes the 
unaccustomed visitor, who naturally expects a 
vastly increased rapidity of foliation, under the 
powerful stimulus of such fostering and fertilising 
warmth and light. 

Madeira abounds in vegetables as well as fruit, 
such as sweet potatoes, yams, common potatoes, 
gourds, chow-chow cucumbers, cayenne, tomatoes, 
egg-plant, spinach, parsley, cress, lettuce, onions, 
radishes, peas, beans, cauliflowers, carrots, turnips, 
cabbages, celery, and others, in succession, except 
in the hottest summer months, when they can be 
found at a higher elevation, where some are exclu- 



VEGETABLE PRODUCE. 



337 



sively grown that do not succeed at a lower level. 
Rice would grow well here. 

The sweet potato is very extensively cultivated, 
and requires a rather dry situation ; it is an im- 
portant vegetable for the poor islanders ; it yields 
very prolifically, and the lengthy tendrils and leaves 
are esteemed an admirable provender for the cattle ; 
it needs no outlay for its cultivation, save in ma- 
nure — for it produces from the tendrils, and as the 
roots are dug up these are once more laid in the 
ground. It is, I think, an over-rated, insipid vege- 
table ; I got excessively tired of it in the Western 
hemisphere. I remember somewhere mistaking it 
for a fruit, as it w r as put in a tart ; but occasion- 
ally they have curious dishes of this kind in Ame- 
rica, in the rougher parts : if my memory does not 
deceive me, we had one day an oyster-tart. It is 
true the Neapolitans, I think, call them and other 
shell-fish, " Frutti del mare," but they seem mis- 
placed among the sweets ! 

Asparagus, artichokes, and the more costly pro- 
ductions of the garden, are grown in the kitchen- 
gardens of the English residents, with peculiar 
success. During the greater portion of the year 
European vegetables are to be obtained with facility, 
and very abundantly. The common potatoe is said 
to have suffered here considerably, from the same 
strange malady that affected it so violently in 
England and Ireland. The soil of the higher dis- 
tricts of Madeira suits it well in general ; from the 
same ground, if manured and watered, three crops 
could be procured in the year. The Government 
has imposed restrictions that prevent the tobacco- 
plant from being largely cultivated (in order to 
assist the monopoly of the contractors for its svp- 

z 



338 



ABUNDANCE OF ORANGES. 



ply). Even in the Desertas, now so sterile and so 
long neglected, it is supposed it might be made to 
nourish exceedingly. 

Arrowroot and coffee are cultivated, though not 
very largely : they are of fine quality here. The 
in hame, the Arum peregrinum of Persoon, is much 
cultivated near the water-courses and streams, and 
thrives at an elevation of two thousand six hundred 
feet above the level of the sea, or thereabouts. 
The roots will often weigh three or four pounds, 
and from its abundance and low price it affords 
one of the principal articles of sustenance for the 
poorer classes. The inhame, or yam, is not the 
proper West Indian yam ; it is a coarse food, and 
is said by Cordeyro to sting the throat somewhat. 

Oranges abound here, perhaps, more than all 
the other fruits ; they are grown but little for 
exportation, and not having so much care expended 
upon them, are not equal to those cultivated in the 
Western Islands. 

The flowers of the island are very numerous. 
Among them are those abounding geraniums, 
passion-flowers, fiischias, myrtles, and jessamines, 
which decorate so charmingly the hedges and walls 
of the quintas ; there are, besides, verbenas, olean- 
ders, convolvuluses, balsam, daturas, coral-trees, 
camellias, violets, magnolias, heliotrope, dianthus, 
cactus, stocks, clarkias, phloxes, petunias, salvias, 
carnations, hollyhocks, zinnias, thumbergias, psora- 
leas, lotus {Lotus Jacobeus), hibiscus, dahlias, roses, 
honeysuckle, and crowds of others. 

The growth of sugar, perhaps, might be largely 
and very advantageously extended. There are but 
few sugar-mills now in the island ; there is one of 
superior construction near San Martinho : however, 



INTRODUCTION OF THE SUGAR-CANE. 339 

the processes of the manufacture generally end with 
the making rum and molasses. It is, indeed, un- 
fortunately true, that if the plant were encouraged, 
and the trade attempted, the speculators would 
have to dread the formidable rivalry of the slave- 
produced sugar of the Brazilian empire ; but it is to 
be hoped, in time, slavery will be wholly extin- 
guished there. 

Prince Henry of Portugal originally introduced 
the sugar-cane into this island from Sicily ; it was 
probably planted here about the same time as the 
Malmsey vine, which he brought from Candia. At 
the commencement of the last century, Cordeyro, 
topographically describing Madeira, mentions sugar- 
mills as being scattered about in great profusion 
on nearly every portion of the south coast, the 
number exceeding a hundred and twenty. At 
Funchal there were several, and a couple at Cama 
dos Lobos. The same authority says, " About half 
a league beyond the Ribiero d' Taboa, is the Lom- 
bado of John Esmeraldo, a Genevese. lie was 
accustomed to make twenty thousand arrobas of 
sugar." The occupier who succeeded him had 
eighty slaves in his employ. 

Sugar continued to constitute the principal, if 
not the sole commercial produce of Madeira, 
till the termination of the sixteenth century, 
when, during the period of the usurpation of 
Don Philip II. of Spain, the vast quantity of 
the article sent from America occasioned its cul- 
tivation rapidly to decline in this island. It had 
been mainly carried on by the instrumentality of 
slavery ; a portion of the unfortunate bondsmen 
employed were descended from the vanquished 
Moors of the mother-country ; there were aiso 



340 



FORMER SLAVE POPULATION. 



among them Saracen captives, that had fallen into 
the hands of the Portuguese during the existence 
of hostilities, and a great many negroes seized and 
brought from the African coast. It might be 
supposed that, with the facilities for bringing 
slave-labourers from the coast of Africa, the colo- 
nists would have considered no necessity could exist 
for supplying any others. Some authorities in- 
cline to the idea that a disease, which affected the 
cane at one time, was the real cause of the subse- 
quent discontinuance of its cultivation. 

Gaspar Fructuoso tells us that Madeira contained 
more than two thousand seven hundred slaves in 
the year 1552. It was from hence that the sugar- 
cane was first conveyed to the Brazils, in the year 
1510, a few years after the discovery of that now 
fine empire, by the renowned Dom Pedro Alvarez 
Cabral. It was also introduced from Madeira to 
the Island of St. Vincent, in the West Indies : this 
last event took place in the year 1513. The little 
sugar that is now cultivated in the island is chiefly 
made use of in the manufacture of syrup (met), 
for the preparation of preserved fruits, and of mo- 
lasses and rum, as before mentioned. Three mills 
are to be found here for crushing and for extract- 
ing the juice of the cane with this object. One at 
Rua do Chapeo, in the capital ; another at Pray a, 
Formosa Bay, and the third, of better construction, 
near Sao Martin ho. It was on the decline of the 
commerce in sugar that the vine became the great 
staple of the island. 

Notwithstanding the beauty of this charming 
climate, the inhabitants of the island suffer from 
some horrible diseases ; for instance, from elephan- 
tiasis and lepra : the Sao Lazaro Hospital is said 



LOCAL DISEASES. 



341 



to contain numerous cases of these hideous dis- 
orders. This is supposed to be mainly owing to the 
paucity of wholesome food, and, indeed, of any 
food among the poor here, and also to the inju- 
rious inattention of the peasantry to cleanliness. 
These circumstances are mischievously operated on 
by the warmth of the temperature. It is sad to 
think of such loathsome horrors amidst scenes so 
lovely as these. 

This interesting isle must have been yet more 
fairy-like in the olden time, adorned with its original 
garniture of wide-spread forests, — when thousands 
and thousands of indigenous infructiferous plants 
and trees of giant size sheeted the entire island 
with their leafy fantastic draperies. Not only the 
laurel, vinhatico, til, and lordly cedar, embellished 
it, but the azevinho, teixo aderno, pa5 branco, and 
dragon-tree. Many fine shrubs attracted the eye, — 
the myrtle and urze, the faya, uviera, and folhado, 
beautified the scene. On all sides were the musgo, 
the agarico, the feto, and herbarea, and, besides 
these, the era, the silva, the alegra-campo, the cor- 
riola, and a wilderness of parasitic climbers and 
evergreens, — all were richly mingling, and charm- 
ingly united with rocks, pearly springs, and rivu- 
lets, shady grots, and romantic ravines. The 
senses were taken prisoners by a rainbow -coloured 
multitude of sweet-scented, many-variegated plants, 
and other charms of nature ; but must not the 
thoughts, on the contrary, have been set free 
from dull earth-cares, to mount from hence to 
heaven ? 



342 



SKETCH OF MADEIRA. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Before I take leave of this charming spot, whose 
salubrious renown has for a long period attracted to 
its balmy shores so many of my suffering country- 
men and country-women, I will give a slight 
sketch of its early history. 

The Portuguese originally discovered it in the 
year 1419. The discoverers were, in consequence, 
made fidalgoes by the king, and enjoyed a more 
substantial reward in having the island allotted to 
them to preside over. These fortunate and distin- 
guished individuals were Tristao Vaz Teixeira, and 
Joa5 Gonzalves. Dom John I. gave the latter the 
family name of Da Camera; he is much better 
known, however, by his nickname, Zargo (or Squint- 
eye), said to have been bestowed upon him by his 
mck-name-loving countrymen, in consequence of his 
naving a defect in his eyes. I believe the Spa- 
niards have a w 7 ord " zarco," for light blue, and 
if the Portuguese have one resembling it, — and it 
is frequently the case, — the term might possibly 
merely mean that Gonzalves da Camera had light 
azure orbs, and his looks, in that case, w T ill have 
been seriously libelled. 

Porto Santo, a small island in the vicinity, of 



ZARGO. 



343 



Madeira, was discovered by a Portuguese, called 
Bartolomeo Perestrello, in 1418. 

Zargo is always considered the true hero of the 
island of Madeira ; however, it was owing to Dom 
Henry, " the Conquistador," that he was despatched 
on his exploratory expedition. The history of Robert 
Machim and Anna is looked on as fabulous. The 
sons and successors of Da Camera to the sixth 
generation were Captains-general of Funchal, for it 
was there that Gonzalves settled, whilst Vaz estab- 
lished himself at Machico. Zargo's son, also named 
Gonzalves da Camera, rejoiced in a separate sobri- 
quet, and not a very much prettier one than that of 
his respected parent : he was called 0 de Porrinha 
(the Leek) ; but the more courtly historian gave him 
a noble-sounding appellation, the Mirror (Espilho) 
of good captains — the glass of bravery and Chris- 
tianity. His immediate successor built the Se, or 
Cathedral ; he was fortunate enough to have the 
princely addition to his name, of " The Magni- 
ficent" (0 Magniflco). His son, who bore the dig- 
nity after him, was the " Magnificent" also in nature, 
if not in name ; he was a distinguished commander 
and a high-minded chief — fond both of splendour 
and honour. After his death, the fifth governor, 
the first Count of Calheta, succeeded him, and 
during his absence from Madeira, while he was 
residing in Portugal, it was that the French 
Huguenots attacked and sacked Funchal in 1566. 
His son, and grandson too, I think, afterwards 
held the office. The descendants o/ Tristao Vaz 
retained the captaincy bestowed upon him for 
about ] 82 years. 

Among the early settlers are found the names 
of D'Ornellas, Vasconcellos, Ferreiro, Medeyras, 



344 



FRUCTUOSO's ACCOUNT. 



and Bitancor, at one time kings of the Canaries 
(which title, if it existed still, would always give 
me an idea of the kingdom being in piping cir- 
cumstances • of great joy when the heir-apparent 
was fledged, and of the regal banquets being fur- 
nished with every delicacy of the season, in the 
shape of chickweed and small worms ; as well as 
of the palace being formed, if not of soft twigs 
and cotton and moss, of gilt wires with a little 
gemmed and golden perch for the monarch and 
the hen-consort). There were other distinguished 
personages among them, the heirs of whose names 
still constitute the leading families of the place. 
Notwithstanding the array of noble names that 
outshone there full brightly — for the list included 
others of high renown — it must be confessed that 
for some time Madeira was looked upon a little in 
the light of the Botany Bay of Portugal. Still this 
did not deter many persons of the highest respect- 
ability and distinction from adopting it as their 
home. 

Portugal was then a truly chivalrous nation, 
and her intrepid and adventurous sons were ever 
eager to avail themselves of every opportunity to 
add to the honours of their families, to aggrandise 
themselves by all gallant and legitimate means, and 
to possess themselves at once of fortune and distinc- 
tion, ot fame, independence, and an ample field of 
occupation for their enterprise and activity. 

f ructuoso exultingly declares that the inha- 
bitants of the place of his birth, Terceyra, (a certain 
proportion of whom, it was whispered by malevolent 
rumour, "left their country for their country's 
good,") were among the first and foremost of an- 
cient Christians, above all suspicion of having been 



TRIAL OF FAITH. 



345 



of the abhorred race of the Jew, or of the followers 
of Mahoun. Men were they who would most un- 
shrinkingly have stood the severest of all possible 
tests, — men who would have gone up without 
flinching to the bottle's mouth — and applied their 
own to it ; who would equally have faced port or 
pork, gone the whole hog, and the whole hogshead, 
swallowed the griskin, and drained the goblet of 
grape-juice — falerno, or any other vinous com- 
pound, and remained perfectly undaunted, in short, 
by any amount of piggy-wiggery or potations that 
might be brought to bear against them. They 
were perfectly safe from the detested stigma of 
heresy, however some of them might have been 
obnoxious to other minor charges, such as an 
inordinate affection for their neighbour's goods, and 
such small defects. 

When the rights of the heirs of the original 
donatories had ceased, and* those of the crown were 
reinstated (or they were bestowed again with many 
limitations), the most oppressive of the privileges 
granted to them were annulled, or allowed to fall 
into disuse. Some of these privileges had been 
often exercised in a very detrimental manner. The 
salt monopoly was merged in the other monopolies 
of the crown, and the change altogether was a 
highly judicious and beneficial one. 

When originally discovered and settled by 
Zargo, those portions of Madeira that were not 
merely sterile rock were densely covered by im- 
mense forests of noble timber; and the founders 
of Funchal, to the site of which the settlers were 
irresistibly attracted, by its fine bay, its back- 
ground of high and beautiful hills, and other pal- 
pable advantages — found that the most rapid and 



346 



AN EXTENSIVE EIRE. 



easy manner of clearing the land would be by 
applying the torch to the thick woods that enve- 
loped it. A most excellent manure is also formed 
of burnt ashes. In fine, they decided on this mode. 
The flames are said to have spread over the entire 
southern portion of the island ; and they were so 
terrible, that the incendiaries had to fly to their 
vessels, which they luckily had not set fire to fas 
one of the heroes of old " burnt his ships " under 
different circumstances), to escape the fierce fury 
of the conflagration, and the dreadful heat it 
caused. 

The fire is recorded by authentic authors to have 
continued burning for seven years. After the parts 
of the trees above the ground were entirely con- 
sumed, the insatiable flames, they declare, con- 
tinued to feed themselves by preying on the roots, 
these roots being embedded in a porous and light 
soil : and thus a lin germs: half-smouldering com- 
bustion might be well carried on for a period such 
as is mentioned. The gradual underground com- 
bustion of peat or coal — not very uncommon — 
furnishes a similar fact. The disappearance of so 
much of the native woods of the island is thus 
accounted for, and what remained of indigenous 
timber from the woods, being in high favour for 
their utility, their superiority, and beauty, has 
been imprudently used up : for instance, the indige- 
nous cedar has vanished. There are said to be not 
more than half-a-dozen dragon-trees now in the 
island. The vinhatico, til, and folhado are becom- 
ing more and more scarce ; the non-deciduous trees, 
.the only indigenous ones in semi-tropical coun- 
tries, are, in general, being fast replaced by the 
deciduous ones of less favoured regions. The early 



FERRO ISLAND. 



347 



destruction of the forests that once covered nearly 
the whole of Madeira operated materially in con- 
ducing to certain subsequent modifications in 
the climate ; and very beneficially so to invalids, 
doubtless, as it was no longer so chargeable 
with humidity as before : but this change told 
unfavourably on the fertility and vegetation of the 
island. In a warm climate like this, with a porous 
and arid soil, moisture is particularly necessary. 

At the first discovery of Madeira, and for a 
somewhat lengthened period afterwards, Avhile the 
hills in the north were shrouded by non-deciduous 
trees, the Socorridos, the largest river of the island, 
that flows through the beautiful Curral, was deep 
enough to float timber to the Atlantic, into which 
it falls, not far from " Cania dos Lobos." When it 
is not increased by any of those abrupt floods which 
sometimes take place here, it is a comparatively in- 
significant stream ; here and there, indeed, it seems 
almost lost among the loose stones and rocks 
that fill its bed. The early colonists appear to 
have been aware of the possible results contingent 
on the too sudden clearing away of the vast heaps of 
timber that had covered the island, and they passed 
a law (which is not yet abrogated, but is little if at 
all enforced), that rendered it penal to cut down a 
til or vinhatico, if standing in the neighbourhood 
of a fountain, or on a river's banks. The til is 
said to have an extraordinary capacity of distilling 
water from its leaves ; that and the vinhatico are 
still of vast size in the hills and ravines. 

The most westerly island of the Canaries (Eerro) 
is exceedingly rocky, and destitute of fountains and 
streams ; on all sides but one it presents a high, 
almost perpendicular rock, sheer to the ocean, from 



34S 



NATURAL DISTILLERIES. 



which a low sunken valley runs through the middle 
of the island, only broken not far from its centre 
by an elevated ridge that passes athwart it. A 
prodigious til-tree stands on this elevation : the 
breeze from the ocean blows freshly up the valley ; 
and commonly a white mist is observed daily, but 
particularly in the early morning hour, which floats 
about the lonely tree, the leaves of which distil water 
in such quantities, that a tank is formed at its base, 
where the precious liquid is collected, and affords 
drink to all the two and four-footed inhabitants of 
the place. " Garse," or holy tree, was the particular 
name given to this invaluable til in the ancient 
tongue of the people, and various marvellous, and all 
but miraculous, properties were reported to belong 
to it. It was supposed never to show the smallest 
alteration, never to be in the slightest degree 
enlarged or decreased, and its leaves varied not in 
any manner, nor decayed. The water was said to 
be good and sweet. Whether this tree still exists 
does not seem clearly known. 

The polished surface of laurel leaves, and of the 
leaves of all trees of their kith and kin, quickly cool 
by radiation, when the skies are clear ; and having 
a considerable amount of dew collected upon them, 
they, so to say, gather and distil a profusion of 
water from atmospherical sources. 

Among the artificial works of the island, the 
Levaclas are unquestionably the most important : the 
largest, and altogether the best contrived. Thev are 
water-courses formed of masonry : the water, often 
at very considerable elevations, is diverted from the 
mountain torrents. These streams are conducted, 
at times, along the sides of mountains, or along 
the faces of precipitous rocks, to different cul- 



TRICKS IN ALL TRADES. 



349 



tivated localities, and from thence commences their 
distribution. There is a monthly cycle of turns 
(giri) of about an hour each for every levada, 
and these are bought and sold like any other 
rights appurtenant to possessions, or any other 
species of property. The water is conveyed to 
the different little farms, or occupations, whose 
managers can substantiate a right to it, through 
subordinate channels, made to convey it in the 
successive order considered most judicious for its 
distribution, so that it may be effected without any 
unnecessary loss of time, or needless expenditure of 
the valuable element. Particular provision has been 
made generally by the laws of Portugal for its just 
and proper apportionment. Notwithstanding this, 
it is an unfailing source of litigation and quarrels, 
and its path is marked by abundant attorneys and 
their clients, and the banks thereof are adorned with 
various shades of greenness, not on the part of the 
last, but the first. Water should produce verdure. 
The fact is, there is a heavy crop of law-suits 
continually springing up in the silvery steps of 
these flowing waters ; if they are not brawling 
brooks themselves, they are at any rate the cause 
of brawls in others. Through some neglect, or gross 
want of due impartiality on the part of the ap- 
pointed officer, the watery treasure is, occasionally 
by a monopolising next-door neighbour, stopped 
for too long a time upon its route. The expectant 
farmer is in a fever of impatience, his ground is 
thirsty, parched, dry, and almost ready to crack — 
he feels half-cracked himself. Water ! water ! or 
lie will faint ! What can the delinquent be doing 
with the water ? — ducking his children in it, drag- 
ging it, drinking it, drowning in it? A torrent of 



350 



STREAMS OF CONTENTION. 



invectives passes his lips, but that torrent does not 
moisten the earth : perhaps the careless neighbour, 
or the officer, by some stupid mismanagement, has 
suffered the stream to be wasted on its way. 
Perhaps the former has for some object managed 
to direct it to another channel. His crop is, as it 
were, gasping. In this climate, without the proper 
supply of moisture, crops must infallibly die. Off 
he rushes to his lawyer. That gentleman does not 
divert the stream of his ideas, or turn the current 
of his wrath by his expressed opinions, but strongly 
confirms him in the notion that his neighbour has 
diverted or detained the stream of this precious 
water purposely from his ill-used grounds. He 
takes good care, in short, on his part, to throw 
no cold water on his client's intention of going to 
law about the pure liquid. 

These vain disputes are continually recurring; 
for, as may naturally be supposed, the supply of 
the valuable molten crystal frequently fails at those 
times of the year when it is most required. 
The streams from the mountains that feed the 
Levadas have perhaps become pitifully scanty. 
Unfortunately the channels are not water-tight : a 
good deal of the much-desired element is lost by 
evaporation, through being injuriously exposed to 
the cloudless skies of this brilliant climate, and 
the inflamed, parched atmosphere. And thus, when 
the looked-for supply at last arrives at its destined 
point, it offers but a scanty relief too often to the 
craving, thirsty soil : of course, the gradual diminu- 
tion of the woods has a constant tendency to aggra- 
vate the mischief. Still the Levadas are very 
useful, and without them, Madeira would probably 
present a most miserable appearance. They are 



BIRDS OF MADEIRA. 351 

scattered almost over the entire island with their 
subordinate channels to the various fazendas (pro- 
perties). 

The woods of Madeira are generally reported 
to be but little enlivened by the notes of singing 
birds, the plumy tribe being rather scarce here. 

The timid rock-pigeon is to be found along the 
craggy coast; there are some canaries, blackbirds, 
goldfinches, redbreasts, and sparrows ; there are 
swallows, too, that pass their winter here. 

There is also a very sweet-voiced, peculiar 
nightingale, belonging to the island. A species of 
wagtail is common. Various gulls frequent the 
coast ; there are some sparrow-hawks and owls : of 
the latter there is said to be a species remarkable 
for beauty, — which does not exactly agree with our 
general notions of owlishness ! The manta (the 
Falco cesalon) is constantly seen soaring among 
the high crests of the mountains. A few quails, 
woodcocks, and some red-legged partridges, are, I 
believe, occasionally found among the heights. Be- 
fore I take leave of this lovely little island, I must 
not omit to state that some conjecture the early 
Phoenicians were acquainted with the two islands of 
Madeira and Porto Santo, and that they saw them 
first when they sailed round Africa from the Red 
Sea, by command of Pharaoh Necho, returning 
by the Pillars of Hercules, 607 b. c. ; in later times 
they had often made voyages to the North-west 
African coast, beyond Cape Eojador, as well as the 
Carthaginians. 

Herodotus speaks of some Islands of the Blessed 
on the very confines of the earth, somewhere in a 
vast ocean, gilded by the glowing beams of the 
low-setting and neighbouring sun; and besides 



352 



COLUMBUS. 



this, no less an authority than Plutarch distinctly 
declares, I am informed, that Sartorius, after being 
driven from Iberia, desired (very naturally) to pre- 
serve his life and that of his faithful followers, after 
the destruction of his vessels on two Atlantic Islands, 
about 10,000 stadia west of the mouth of the Baetis. 
It is imagined that he clearly meant to designate 
Madeira and Porto Santo ; alluded to before, it 
would appear, as the Purpurarise, by Pliny. About 
a year before the discovery of Madeira by Zargo 
and Vaz Teixeira (who were instructed how to pro- 
ceed by Dora Henry of Portugal, the Navigator, one 
of the most distinguished men of his age), Porto 
Santo had been visited by an Italian, named Peres- 
trello, a man who had acquired some notoriety in 
the Portuguese maritime service. A tempest rose 
while Perestrello was exploring the West African 
coast, which drove his ship from its course, and, 
after undergoing much peril for several days and 
nights, he finally found himself in sight of Porto 
Santo, and there was sheltered from the violence of 
the tempestuous elements. In gratitude for his 
escape he gave the friendly island its present appel- 
lation. A dim and vapoury outline, resting on the 
horizon, was perceptible from this spot ; and this was 
said to have awakened in Zargo the hope that he 
might discover other territories there. After a few 
obstacles and hesitations the idea was crowned with 
success, and Sao Lourenco was the name bestowed 
on the point where they first made land. This was 
the name of Zargo's vessel. 

The ever-glorious name of Christopher Colum- 
bus is intimately connected with the early accounts 
of these islands. The great navigator espoused 
Pelippa, who was the daughter of the discoverer 



ABODE OF COLUMBUS. 



353 



of the smaller one, — Bartholomew Perestrello, after- 
wards appointed governor of Porto Santo. After 
the death of Perestrello, the mother of his wife 
presented him with many documents and journals 
of the deceased governor; and it is generally be- 
lieved that these letters and memoranda happily 
inspired the mighty mind of Columbus with the 
first ideas of those important projects which were 
ultimately brought to so successful an issue. For- 
tunate it was that his wife was mistress of a little 
property in the island that her father had dis- 
covered, since it was thus that Columbus, — possessed 
of a small competency, — had leisure and oppor- 
tunity to study over those precious memoranda 
carefully, and fully to apply all the powerful ener- 
gies of his mind to the profound consideration of 
momentous subjects and colossal plans. From this 
little leisure of a gifted man, what vast, incalculable 
benefits, have flowed to all mankind ! 

Columbus lived for some time at Porto Santo, 
making constant trading excursions to Madeira, 
where also he occasionally took up his temporary 
residence, ere the mighty voyage, the greatest of 
expeditions, took place, which gave immortal honour 
to his name — a constellation of empires to haughty, 
ambitious Spain, and a world to the world — wed- 
ding the queenly roseate West, like a blushing 
maiden, to the proud Bridegroom East ! What 
gigantic events spring from apparently slight 
causes ! How little foreseen have been some of the 
most prodigious occurrences that have ever exer- 
cised a deep, lasting influence, over the inhabitants 
of our planet ! 

In case my readers are not acquainted with the 
novel-like, and probably either invented or greatly 

A A 



354 



TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH. 



exaggerated, tale of the two British lovers who were 
supposed by some historians to have been driven on 
this coast in 1344, I will relate it : — 

According to Alcaforado, Robert Machirn, an 
accomplished cavalier, living in the reign of our third 
Edward, entertained a deep affection for the daughter 
of one of the high nobles of the land, the fair and 
lovely Anna d'Arfet, and he too had found favour in 
her eyes. Now this Robert Machim only belonged 
to the second degree of nobility, and as etiquette 
ruled with an iron reign in those days, papa and 
mamma were naturally, or conventionally, indig- 
nant, and required Anna forthwith to hate him — 
literally, to a degree, — and at length this noble of 
the second order (who seemed a diamond of the 
very first water in Anna's eyes) was rigorously 
incarcerated by virtue of a royal warrant, as a 
punishment for his presumption. And when at 
last he was set free, he had to endure the heavy 
shock of learning that Anna had been forced to 
marry a first-class noble, who had conveyed her 
— on a first-class pillion of those days, doubtless, to 
his castle in the neighbourhood of Bristol. 

Machim had a faithful young friend, who con- 
trived to get himself taken into the family, pro- 
bably without any recommendation, or testimonials, 
as my lord's groom ; by this means he managed 
to communicate with the heart-broken Anna, pos- 
sibly when following her on some occasion, as in 
duty bound, while she gracefully reined in and 
skilfully managed her prancing palfrey, — and seiz- 
ing the opportunity of confidentially informing her 
who he was, and why he had taken this step, the 
insinuating "tiger" at length persuaded her to 
escape with him, and embark on board a vessel 



MISFORTUNES NEVER COME ALONE. 355 

with Macliim (who was prepared to receive her), 
with the intention of passing the rest of their lives 
in France. 

In the agitation and confusion in which the 
party hurried on board they forgot a rather import- 
ant personage, the pilot : they had put to sea in the 
most inclement of the seasons, and were soon at the 
mercy of the raging elements. During a dark 
stormy night the wished-for port was missed, and 
their little vessel was driven out to sea. For twelve 
days they were a prey to intense horror and alarm, 
— and doubtless, were sorely conscience-stricken, — 
indeed, they were apparently in a helpless situ- 
ation ; but afterwards their hearts were gladdened 
by the faint sight of land on the horizon, and they 
happily succeeded in making the spot, which is still 
called " Machico." 

The wearied and enfeebled, and, we will hope, 
repentant Anna, was carried to the shore and 
deposited in safety ; and Robert Machim spent 
several days in reconnoitring the neighbourhood 
with his friends, when it unfortunately happened 
that their vessel, which they had left in the care of 
the sailors, suddenly broke from her moorings in a 
squall or tempest, and was ultimately wrecked on 
the coast of Morocco, where the crew were speedily 
made slaves by their infidel captors. 

Poor Anna, strange to say, became dumb with 
sorrow (the cautious historian tells us not whether 
this was a misfortune greatly lamented by her com- 
panion) : worse than that, she died in the course of 
three days. Machim survived the beloved partner 
of his hazardous voyage only five days, and died, 
desiring his comrades to commit his remains to the 
same grave that contained the dust of the sorrowing 



356 



THE LOVERS' TOMB. 



and ill-starred Anna d'Arfet. It mnst have been 
a touching funeral that, in the wild, unreclaimed 
forest, where the awful ashes of a departed human 
being, it might well seem, had never before obeyed 
the universal command — "Earth to earth, ashes 
to ashes, dust to dust." The unclouded sky still 
looked as bright and cloudless. Nature wept no 
tears for her fallen children ; they were mourn- 
fully laid there in the utter solitude of the 
unknown, uninhabited land, not to mingle with 
the dust of their forefathers or countrymen, or 
even of their fellow-creatures, but with, perchance, 
the bones of the wild animals of the forests. 
But what, said I ? — did not Robert feel he should 
be blest in his dark grave, for were not the mortal 
remains of the one most dear to him there ? The 
dust was peopled as by a whole world of love, for 
was not his Anna laid near in the calm slumbers 
of death ? — that was surely enough. His lifeless 
form was consigned to the earth, by the side of 
his adored one, beneath the patriarchal cedar, where 
they, a few short days previously, had placed a 
sacred symbol, in humble acknowledgment of their 
extraordinary and unforeseen deliverance. Machim 
had composed an inscription to be carved on that 
symbol, earnestly enjoining that the first Christian 
who should pass that spot, and was possessed of 
the means so to do, should build a church on the 
place. 

The survivors, after having fulfilled the dying 
request of Machim, and buried him by Anna, 
fitted out their boat, which they had drawn on shore 
upon their disembarking, and boldly put to sea, 
in the earnest hope of being enabled to get to 
some part of the European Continent ; but they, too, 



DIFFERENT VERSIONS. 



357 



were driven by unfavourable winds on the inhospi- 
table coast of Morocco. There, indeed, they were 
reunited to their missing companions, but to be 
bound with them, not in the tender figurative ties 
of friendship, but the hideous, crushing, positive 
bonds of slavery and captivity. 

During an exploratory expedition, undertaken 
by Zargo, to the African coast, a Spanish vessel, 
full of redeemed prisoners, was taken: among 
these was an experienced old pilot, called Morales. 
This Morales entered into the service of the famed 
Zargo, and he gave his new master an account of 
the situation and landmarks of the newly-disco- 
vered islands of the Atlantic, as well as a long 
narration of the misfortunes of the voyage and 
various adventures of poor Robert Machim, exactly 
as the different details had been communicated to 
him by the English slaves and captives. 

The same account is related by Galvano from 
the " Castilian Chronicles," but with this variation 
in the statement, that the latter narrative declares 
Machim did not die at Madeira, but was also 
wrecked on the Morocco coast, and that after being 
for some time detained in captivity and the chains 
of slavery there, he ultimately escaped from bondage 
and arrived in safety in Castile. 

Barros is perhaps the only Portuguese historian 
who does not prefix this romantic tale of the loves 
and woes of Robert and Anna to the history of 
the discovery of Madeira. Bowdich thinks it is 
entitled to a certain degree of credit, from the 
circumstance of the town being called " Machico." 
But most writers of late years agree in doubting 
the veracity of the story, as it was not till between 
seventy and eighty years after the events narrated 



358 



DISCOVERERS OF MADEIRA. 



that Machim's soi-disant companions made any 
statement respecting this singular affair, or that 
these communications were made public. The facts 
or fables, however, do not end entirely here : state- 
ments have been made to the effect, that Vaz and 
Zargo actually found the mouldering skeletons of 
Machim and Anna d'Arfet in a rocky recess, lying 
close to each other, and that the sympathising 
discoverers afterwards erected a monument to their 
memory, with a suitable inscription, in addition 
to the chapel Machim had so earnestly petitioned 
for. A church built by Vaz is certainly said to 
exist still at Machico, though very considerably 
altered and repaired; and a chapel, supposed by 
some to be the one erected in pursuance of Ma- 
chim's request, is exhibited ; and a bit of wood is 
shown in it, which is generally considered to be a 
portion of the sacred symbol he erected under the 
venerable cedar. 

Some authors seem to doubt whether Vaz 
accompanied Zargo or no, on his first discovery of 
the island ; there are one or two that assert he 
certainly was not with him till the second voyage 
hither. Barros and some others deny that Colum- 
bus' father-in-law, Perestrello, was the first disco- 
verer of Porto Santo, and believe it was originally 
observed by some French and Spanish mariners 
on their way to the Canary Islands. Nearly all 
concur in stating, however, Porto Santo was known 
before Madeira, and that Zargo, if not Vaz like- 
wise, first discovered Madeira, and first landed at 
Machico ; thus altogether discrediting the tale of 
Machim and Anna and the pilot Morales, and re- 
garding it merely in the light of an idle fiction. It 
is rather extraordinary that Porto Santo should have 



ATTACK OF PIRATES. 



359 



been discovered in 1418, and Madeira not for a year 
afterwards, since Madeira is, usually, to be tolerably 
clearly seen and distinguished from its smaller 
neighbour ; and it is also singular that the Italian 
navigator did not attempt to add to his laurels 
by pursuing his voyage further, especially bearing 
in mind his experience, sagacity, and acuteness of 
observation ; the greatest proof of which is, his 
having implanted those ideas in the mind of his 
world-renowned son-in-law, which led the latter to 
the triumphant discovery of the unknown Western 
World. 

Great praise is due to the illustrious " Conquis- 
tador/' Dom Henry of Portugal, surnamed the Navi- 
gator. All the discoveries of the remarkable fif- 
teenth century, which was assuredly the time when 
Portugal was in her zenith of power and prosperity, 
are mainly attributable to him. It was at his 
instance that Zargo was sent on his exploratory ex- 
pedition ; and this island w T ould have remained undis- 
covered but for him, — at least, at that period. Dom 
Henry was altogether a noble and distinguished 
character — brave, accomplished, learned, and ener- 
getic — a munificent patron of art, and a true lover 
of his country. He was one of the most perfect 
scholars of his time. He was the third son of Dom 
John the First. 

On the return of the successful expedition he 
had been so instrumental in forming and despatch- 
ing, great public rejoicings took place in the capital 
of Portugal, and Dom John dedicated the new 
discovery, solemnly, to a religious order, of which 
Prince Henry was grand master. 

Madeira had attained considerable prosperity 
ere the termination of the brilliant fifteenth cen- 



360 



SUCCESS OE THE PIRATES. 



tury, and the fame of its wealth and nourishing 
state was so much bruited about, that it unfortu- 
nately attracted the notice, and awakened the greed 
and covetousness, of the swarming pirates and free- 
booters that infested the surrounding seas, spread- 
ing terror and devastation wherever they appeared. 
These daring and ruthless corsairs, at various times, 
had endeavoured to effect a successful landing upon 
the island, and to accomplish the seizure of the 
city, until, in the year 1566, a large body of the 
French Huguenots from Rochelle devised, and car- 
ried into effect, a well-concerted plan for attacking 
the town and pillaging the inhabitants of all they 
possessed. The country was on perfectly peace- 
ful terms with France, when eight French galleons 
anchored a league or so below the capital, Fanchal. 
When the daylight was past, they contrived to 
effect the disembarkation of more than a thousand 
men, well armed and prepared, at all hazards, to 
carry their point. Making a detour, they descended 
on Funchal by the Achada (the Peak fort now 
stands there). The acting governor then being 
apprised of the position of affairs, he retired to the 
fortress of Sao Lourenco, which stronghold was 
armed with artillery to defend the city. The panic 
and confusion were so great at first, that of all the 
inhabitants only a few men could be assembled 
together to oppose any resistance to the reso- 
lute marauders. The French found themselves 
thoroughly masters of Funchal by the next morn- 
ing ; though, after the first alarm had subsided, 
they were obliged to have recourse to some hard 
fighting. About fifty Frenchmen were supposed to 
have fallen, and two or three hundred Funchalese. 
They stayed about sixteen days, and occupied 



FUNCHALESE LOSS OF PROPERTY. 361 

their time busily in carrying off to their galleons 
all the wealth and booty, — all the public treasures 
and private precious effects of the citizens that they 
could lay their lawless hands upon. They took 
their departure in safety, just before the appearance 
of a fleet from Lisbon, which the acting governor 
had sent for on the arrival of the French privateers. 
The governor himself (Senor Gonzales de Camara) 
was absent at Lisbon. 

The rapidity with which the succouring armada 
was fitted out and despatched was a source of 
admiration to ancient writers • they say it was 
unequalled and extraordinary. In less than eight 
days it was ready. The Funchalese are supposed 
to have lost about a million and a-half of gold 
pieces. The churches were not respected by the 
plunderers ; plate and images were carried off, or 
broken, or defaced ; the reliques thrown about and 
destroyed • and the pictures disfigured. When 
they were dismantling the Church of Sao Francisco 
of all its treasures, the friars, who had hastily 
escaped, betook themselves to their dormitories, 
where they lay concealed. The corsairs discovered 
and seized nine or ten of them, and killed them 
on the spot, — one poor wretch expired from sheer 
spasms of terror. Most of the citizens had fled 
to the mountains during the period that the 
freebooters had possession of their town. When 
the invaders departed, besides carrying off all the 
lesser cannon they could find, they maliciously 
broke and destroyed those of a larger calibre, 
which would have been incommodious to them to 
take off with them. 

Some authors state that there were only 
three French privateers engaged in the nefarious 



362 POPULATION OF MADEIRA. 

transaction. When the armada of relief appeared, 
the freebooters had evacuated the place nearly a 
week, notwithstanding the expedition used : they 
had steered towards the Canary Islands. They 
passed the Islands of Terceira afterwards, but left 
the inhabitants in peace, being aware of their des- 
titute condition ; so that their penury was of some 
profit to them : indeed, as an ancient writer observes 
in a MS. account, quoted in a late work on the 
island by Mr. White, " their poverty proved riches 
to them at such a time." The corsairs were not 
likely to be tempted to pause in their way, 
attracted by such an insignificant consideration as 
the miserable pittance the wretched residents in 
these poverty-stricken islands might have scraped 
together, and so want and wretchedness were their 
wealth, and had their worth, for thus they preserved 
the little they possessed ! — whereas, had they had 
more, they might have been stripped and despoiled 
of all. 

The gross population of Madeira and Porto 
Santo, as shown by the census taken in the year 
1849, was 110,084 persons. This exhibits a decrease 
from 1839 of 5677. Emigration, which has been 
somewhat considerable here lately, accounts for this 
falling off of the island population. It is since the 
year 1 840 that so many have left their homes in 
this once flourishing and ever-lovely little land, to 
try their fortunes in Demerara, in the different islands 
in the West Indies, and in the Brazils. The au- 
thorities of Funchal, in many instances, have 
attempted to oppose the current of emigration, that 
seemed inclined to flow but too freely ; in conse- 
quence of this many quitted their native shores 
secretly and surreptitiously : perhaps the injudicious 



THE EXODUS. 



363 



opposition but stimulated their eager longing to 
seek other lands, in hopes of finding their deplor- 
able position ameliorated ; however this may be, 
altogether the exodus has been a very con- 
siderable one indeed.* One might almost think 
it must require a good deal of courage in some of 
these poor, unsophisticated, ignorant islanders, born 
and bred in the fastnesses of their rugged and 
lonely mountains, and knowing from their early, 
uninstructed childhood, no spot but their own 
Madeira, to venture forth upon the wide, great, 
unknown world beyond — to leave that little, lovely, 
and loved spot, which for so long seemed the whole 
world to them ! But hope and hunger will do 
wonderful things • and they boldly bid farewell to 
the salubrious shores of their bright, cloudless 
home, and trust themselves to that vast ocean, in 
whose blue bosom their Isle of Beauty is set like 
a jewel of price. When, in the uneducated sim- 
plicity of their uninformed minds, they look upon 
the visitants to their land from distant climes, they 
must be disposed to think most other parts of the 
world are strangely unhealthy ; for unpromising 
certainly are the foreign specimens that generally 
are to be seen on their shores ; and their geogra- 
phical knowledge and acquaintance with different 
nations and climates may be reasonably supposed 
to be exceedingly scanty, erroneous, and limited. 
Still they dare those sickly, mysterious, unknown, 
remote, strange lands, — for hope and hunger will 
do much in " this best of all possible worlds," as 
somebody, very complimentarily indeed, calls it ! 

* During the last ten years 19,230 have emigrated, not 
including those who clandestinely left the island ; these ma) 
amount to nearly 12,000 more. 



364 



FAREWELL THOUGHTS. 



Pew persons, I think, could quit this lovely spot 
without some regret. One almost feels sorry to 
leave behind the shrill shrieks or bellowed shouts 
of the bullock-drivers ; the voluble " Yes ! yes ! 
yes!" of the w T ould-be proficients in English; the 
topsy-turvy turbans of empty baskets on the heads 
of the poor, and oft sadly-attenuated, country 
damsels ; and the break-neck Rocket Road itself 
(Caminho do Poguete), whose proper name is Ca- 
minho do Meio, — but which is not inappropriately 
known by the first term, from its having an inclin- 
ation of about 23°; — the enterprising excursionists 
descending this steep — sounding its horrid depths, 
generally mounted on some four-legged plumb-fine, 
feel not unlike so many Monsieur or Madame 
Saquis, whose fate it is " to ride the " Rocket 
"and direct the" donkey — or mule here, downward 
and downward still. The poor souls, not being 
professionally in the perpendicular line of life, 
shudder as they feel a frightful " alacrity in 
sinking/ 5 Positively you might well be tempted 
to look round for a facilitating ladder of ropes. A 
bucket might not be an ill-adapted kind of convey- 
ance ; but at the moment of departure you may 
regret even this — I didn't. 



NO SHOT IN THE LOCKER. 



365 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The steamer had arrived from the Brazils, and being 
a little over her time, it was announced she would 
stay but for a very short period. Luckily for us, 
we were prepared for the event. Our trunks were 
charged and loaded, and with " a bold determined 
hand" we saw the hungry hurrying porters pounce 
upon them : without loss of time we were ready 
also, and a message was sent to hasten us to the 
boat ; but there was one obstacle to our departure. 
That obstacle was the same awful article that 
Cornelius Agrippa, according to Ingoldsby, showed 
the rash youth who wished to look upon — 

" No paltry, juggling fiend, . . . himself, 
The Devil, I fain would see." 

And how did Cornelius show it to his visitor ? 

" He comes, he cried, with wild grimace, 
' The fellest of Apollyon's race ; 
Behold, he comes with scowl and curse ! — 
Then in his startled pupil's face 
He dashed — an empty puese ! " 

The fact was, I had delayed a little too long pro- 
viding myself with the sinews of war, and the due 
remittance had not yet reached me from the bankers. 
However, I received a message from them to the 



366 



A LOVELY DAY. 



effect that it would very shortly arrive ; arid I was 
advised to go down to the shore and leave word 
that the sinews aforesaid should follow us, and as 
we proposed going quietly down, as the morning 
was warm, we hoped they would easily overtake us. 
This was not the case, however, and meeting on the 
shore a gentleman connected with the Steam Com- 
pany, we related our misfortune, and he promised 
to deliver a message. 

I left word that the bag of the " needful," when 
it made its appearance, should immediately be des- 
patched to us on board. Our boat was waiting, and 
it is always pleasant to have a little time in the vessel, 
to arrange that mighty apartment — your cabin, 
before the actual start. So we embarked, and in 
due process of time found ourselves on the deck of 
the steamer. 

What a lovely morning it was ! it would be dif- 
ficult to match it — difficult, indeed, to tind one of 
the exact pattern. I have seen more gorgeous ones, 
more dazzling ones ; felt a more inspiring, invi- 
gorating breeze ; smelt more balmy and aromatic 
odours from the shore ; seen the ocean of a more 
transcendant colour ; but this Madeira morning 
was perfection in its way. Beautifully soft, won- 
derfully clear, warm, mild, and pure, and very 
brilliant and bright, eke was it. There was a 
peculiar suavity and complacent sweetness, if I may 
so express it, about the whole atmosphere, that 
seemed to insinuate itself through every pore. Like 
Tennyson's Eleanore was that charming morn, there 
w r as nothing sudden, nothing strange, nothing 
startling, nor abrupt, nor marked, nor angular 
about it. It was smoothness itself, and Nature 
then and there had no sharp corners. It was 



STEAM-BOAT PASSENGERS. 



367 



a perfect <c Kattzenellenbogen " of a morning, 
rounded, dimpled, velvety, tender, with a blush- 
rose sky, a soft, syllabub temperature, a glassy sea, 
a swan's-down air, a satin sun, and silken horizon. 

The deck was rather crowded ; not only the 
passengers w r ere there (many had come up from 
those nautical catacombs, the state cabins, to enjoy 
fully the welcome repose of this stoppage, with 
woefully unwholesome looks) but many visitors from 
the shore, some with acquaintances on board, others, 
perhaps, anxious to hear tidings of absent friends, 
were promenading the deck. Among these guests 
was Lord F. F., who, with coat thrown wide open, 
was full of praise of the Madeira climate, which he 
emphatically declared was quite heaven upon earth. 
Certainly the day was truly delicious. Without 
being oppressively hot, it was charmingly warm, 
and everybody was in summer costume (in the 
beginning of January). 

There were some very curious-looking personages 
on board ; their long voyage had assuredly not im- 
proved their appearance. How melancholy an 
object is yon slight, lightly-dressed youth, whose '* 
costume and whole appearance proclaim him one of 
the lately-arrived from the far Brazils ! One pallid 
peculiarity marks his dress and aspect ; behold, 
his hair, neckerchief, hat, coat, waistcoat, stick, 
moustachios, pantaloons, watch, boots, teeth, whis- 
kers, hands, face, to the very not-whites of his eyes, 
are all pretty nearly the same shade of pale lemon. 
If it were mere accident, it was a singular one ; for, 
setting aside what nature and bile had done, it 
gave one the idea of his having matched all 
with the nicest precision, and of his hatter and 
tailor having zealously co-operated in this, and 



368 



SEA DISTRESSES. 



in finding materials besides the exact tint of 
his complexion and hair. He need not be afraid 
of being devoured if he fell overboard ; for, unless 
the sharks had the gout, and had been ordered 
the new prescription — lemon-juice, they would 
certainly have avoided him as particularly likely to 
disagree with them, as much as Sydney Smith hoped 
the Bishop of New Zealand might with the natives 
of his diocese (if they took a fancy to having a few 
episcopal entremets, or bishop-steak au nature!). 

Another individual slightly resembles him, ex- 
cept in being of a little deeper tint. He, too, seems 
to like having his clothes match his complexion ; 
but the tone is stronger, the colouring more 
orangeady than lemonady. The habiliments, I 
think, were composed of a species of nankeen. 
Near him stands a gentleman who retains nought 
of his original colour (he is evidently from rude, 
ruddy, England) but that which enlivens the tip of 
his nose, which is a bright red ; and so that 
flaming tip glows like the lighted end of a cigar. 
Perhaps he is a tobacco merchant, and his nose 
may act as a symbol of his calling ; the rest of his 
countenance displays a hue not unlike underdone 
hasty-pudding in a tepid condition. 

Such a number of light canary-coloured indivi- 
duals, perhaps, it has seldom been my good fortune 
to behold ; bilious-looking people in bilious-looking 
clothes they undoubtedly were, and when all their 
yellow faces were seen near together, as the eye 
wandered over them, and then glanced on the sea, so 
" deeply, darkly, beautifully blue," the thought 
might have struck me, which it did not, that so 
much yellow and so much blue would make that 
immense turquoise " sea one entire " emerald, if 



AN EXCITING CHASE. 



369 



they were mixed. In "the sere and yellow leaf" 
looted the very youngest of these voyagers, cer- 
tainly, thanks to the baking in the Brazilian oven, — 
and to the ocean. Strange are the various fancies 
of mankind : Why do they not admire a face of 
that peculiar dye ? it is the tinge we bepraise so in 
the most magnificent and precious objects the uni- 
verse can show — in the sun and in the golden 
guinea ! Why, I repeat it, do we blame it in the 
human cheek ? But enough of all this : where are 
my golden guineas or dollars — the wherewithal to 
pay for my passage, for the vessel is about to 
start? Our kind friend, Lord N , after stay- 
ing a little while on board, and talking with some 
friends there, had amiably offered to go on shore 
and see about it. Ha ! there are people getting 
into a little boat all in a hurry » doubtless the can- 
vass-bag of my hopes has arrived : but will it be 
too late? " I'm afloat alack ! the bark may be 
our " bride," but cannot be our banker. 

" My bark is on the sea 

(And I'm in it, too, that's more) ; 
But the money-bag for me 

Is in the boat upon the shore !" 

And now the little boat is seen coming along 
from the sunny strand at a hop-skip-and-jump sort 
of a pace. We are going, going. The little boat is 
coming, coming, — it is an anxious moment. The 
bag is held up ! — What a sight ! I wonder how 
Csesar would have felt if his " fortunes " (at least 
his temporary ones in hard dollars, and he had had 
his passage to pay out of them — ) if his fortunes had 
been bobbing about in one boat and he in another ? 
'Tis coming ; — ah ! " row, brothers, row now, do, 

B B 



370 all's well that ends well. 

I beg of you particularly to " bend to your oars ! " 
Catch no crabs, take no breath. Toss, boatie, 
toss ! Another hop, and now a new skip, and a 
fresh jump; — Bravo ! a courageous jump was that 
last ! an amazing bound ! Another such a spring, 
and the little boat will leap like a flying-fish bodily 
on deck, if she does not mind ! But yet it may be 
too late ! For see, we are just on the move. — Yes ! 
we are going, going, really going • but still the bark 
is coining. . . . Come ! hurrah ! She has done it, 
and done it well, and we are going, — Gone ! but 
not before I have clutched a bag, opened a paper, 
signed a name, paid a debt, heard a statement, 
answered a query, murmured an apology, glanced 
at a writing, given a message, shaken a hand, 
said a good-bye, expressed a deep sense of obliga- 
tion, and counted out a number of dollars ail at 
once, and together, as it appeared to me. With 
a gasp and a grasp had our " friend in need" most 
actively bounded up the sides of the steamer, — 
with a gasp, and a grasp, in half a quarter of a 
moment he had scrambled into the little boat ao-ain : 
yes, and there was the little bark bearing away like 
a boat with a bee in its bonnet, an utterly demented 
and distraught boat, to get out of our way. We 
were really off, and we watched lovely Madeira a 
long while, and bade a lingering farewell to her 
varied coast, her milk-white city, her soaring hills, 
and her little rocky isles, among them those curious 
ones that look like triumphal arches erected in the 
sea. 

Before I quite take leave of this sweet island I 
will once more address a most earnest entreaty to 
any of my readers who may stand in need of a 
milder climate than our own, not to delay, — not to 



ADVICE TO INVALIDS. 



371 



defer their departure from foggy England. Where 
any unfavourable symptoms appear of a nature to 
induce a belief that such a climate as this is de- 
sirable — let them go at once ; — let them look on 
procrastination as suicide. Everything depends 
generally on the promptitude with which this relief 
is sought. If they dread the length of the sea 
voyage, it is easy to go first to Lisbon, and there 
await the Brazilian steamer, or others that take 
Madeira in their way. This is an agreeable 
break in the voyage, and they will find pleasant 
Lisbon, with its beautiful scenery and situation, its 
delightful climate, and good hotels, a very charming 
" house of call." Let them remember, above all — 
that to go quickly — at once — is most likely to 
recover and to live, — to delay is to die ! I have 
seen, and known, and heard much of the mournful 
effects of dilatoriness and fatal irresolution in these 
cases, both in England and America. Happy, 
indeed, should I feel if these earnest expostulations, 
and friendly recommendations and counsels, may 
haply save one precious life ! 

Our voyage was a pretty good one, and yet 
not without some rolling and pitching. Of course 
there were plenty of people ill. There are almost 
always on board some land-lubbers who have never 
or rarely been at sea before : they are generally 
victims. Unaccustomed to the small dimensions 
of the stewing, suffocating cabins, inexperienced 
in the ways of more practised voyagers, and with 
all their things most uncomfortably littering about, 
they have usually a bad time of it. If you watch 
the novices, you will generally have plenty of amuse- 
ment ; that is, if you are hard-hearted, and not 
touched by their genuine distress, for their terror 



372 



MISADVENTURES. 



and horror is not a little diverting. Just look at 
that unfortunate gent rolling up through the hatch- 
way to gulp a breath of fresh air. He would seem 
a modern Samson, to judge by the vast quantity 
of uncropt, unkempt locks, he seems to possess. 
Why, he has got enough for a dozen heads of 
hair, surely. Look a little nearer, and you may 
make a strange discovery, and find he made a sin- 
gular mistake while walking about in the close 
cabin, making desperate plunges after the various 
articles of apparel and ornamentation he required ; 
or now dodging his own tooth-brush stealthily round 
and round the cabin, as if he was going to steal it, 
and was watching for an opportunity; and now help- 
lessly receiving his boot upon his nose, the last place 
where he was likely to want it. At last, having 
Aclonisecl himself as well as he could (considering 
he had to stand on his head part of the time), 
he resolved, not feeling particularly well after all 
these complicated exertions, to pop on his tra- 
velling-cap and rush on deck ; away he hurried 
then to the place where his travelling-cap had 
last been seen : foolish mortal ! it showed how little 
experienced he was in the changeful playfulness 
things of all kinds exhibit at sea, and the love of 
locomotion that is there developed ; had he been 
more of an " old salt," he would have looked in the 
place he did not see it in last ; but he was a green- 
hand of peculiar verdancy ; he not only went to the 
identical same spot for it, but actually did not look 
for it at all, being a little troubled " with a dizziness, 
that hindered him from going well about his busi- 
ness so he stretched forth his hand and seized, 
as he thought, his cap, and without more ado 
clapped it on his head ; but it was his wife's wig 



ANECDOTES OE LABLACHE. 



373 



instead that he had ruthlessly snatched up and 
donned, straightway, or rather sideways, in a dan- 
dified manner, — as he thought, notwithstanding his 
sufferings, sorrow, and botheration, he would look 
smart. Thus he had one head of hair on top of the 
other ; but the effect was more wonderful than 
pleasing ; for, his own locks being inclined to a 
sandy tint, and his spouse's bought ones of a black 
hue, they did not consort at all. It was a little like 
Lablache's adventure with the King of Naples. 
His Majesty had graciously granted the distin- 
guished singer an audience, and he had " ren- 
dered" himself to the palace, where he awaited 
in the ante-room the usual signal to repair to the 
regal presence. Now the " Gros de Naples " is a 
very absent man, and when he was, after a short 
delay, hastily summoned to tender his homage to 
his august host, he imagined he had done as 
most of his companions in the room had done, 
lifted off his hat and laid it near him. At the 
moment he was called, therefore, to enter the 
royal chamber, he hurriedly snatched up a hat 
he thought was his, and carried it off with him. 
When the King greeted him, a peculiar smile 
spread itself over the royal countenance, gradually 
increasing to a laugh. Lablache respectfully ob- 
served — " His Majesty seemed in excellent spirits 
that morning, and hoped he had met with something 
diverting." — " Very diverting, indeed, my good La- 
blache. It is comical enough to see a man with 
one hat on his head and another in his hand." — 
" Ah ! " cried Lablache, after the first start of asto- 
nishment, " it is, indeed, comical. Preposterous ! 
ridiculous and absurd, it is, above all, that a man 
should have two hats who has no head." 



374 



ANECDOTES OF LABLACHE. 



Our " green-hand," however, had two heads of 
hair instead, and not a hat to cover them. The 
state of the perruque-bereaved lady may be better 
imagined than described. 

" Ah ! but give me a lock of thy hair, 

For a ringlet full long have I sighed ! *' — 
" A lock I can very well spare, 

But — don't take the whole wig " — she replied ; 
" Grudge nie not, thou delight of my soul, 

These sweet curls that soothe pangs unexpressed ;" 
" Why, since thus you've made free with the whole, 

I, it is, am completely dis — tressed.''' 

I opine the poor man lost a few handfuls of his 
own hair as well as all his lady's when he returned 
with his unintentional theft in horror-stricken con- 
sternation, sadly he entered the presence of his 
better half, " or rather, three-quarters" I should 
say, perhaps, — wig in hand, and implored her par- 
don, not attempting to conceal the " Head and 
front of his offending/' Let us return for a mo- 
ment to that animated Apollonicon, Lablache, as 
poor L. E. L. called him when talking of him one 
day with me. It appears, during the brief Neapo- 
litan revolution, the king was shut up in one of his 
palaces, (Caserno, I think,) and no ingress or egress 
was allowed. Lablache either called or was sent 
for, and it was necessary for him to place himself in 
a basket in order to be hoisted up to the window ! 
— a basketful of fine Brobclignagian fruit indeed ! 
a mighty Magnum Bonum, fit to set before a King. 
In went Lablache, up went the basket, crack went 
the rope, down came the basket, and out rolled the 
vast plum, — the unlucky bass, — the basest of basses. 
Whether our Parthenopian Falstaff tried again I am 
not aware. 



A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE. 



375 



Another unhappy being, fearful of asphyxiating 
in his solitary cabin, where he had been shut up 
long with no other company than the Expectora- 
toon, whereof Mr. Albert Smith discourses plea- 
santly, suddenly bethought him, perhaps, that a 
little fresh air would mightily improve his apart- 
ment and atmosphere, so he flings wide the door 
that opens to the saloon ; now the ship is rolling, 
and every thing is dancing, skipping, and " frisk- 
ing, frisking, flirting, frisking" like the cc rural 
fays" and elves in Lord Morning ton's beautiful glee, 
and a variety of articles that are adrift enter his 
cabin-door, uninvited, — a huge tray and table, or 
something of the kind, having just foundered, and 
the floor being strewed with the fragments of the 
wreck, besides various other waifs and foundlings. 
The consequence is, when our friend attempts to put 
on a pair of slippers to march into the saloon, he 
probably thrusts one foot into a knife-tray and the 
other into a lady's knitting-box, or something of 
that nature, that had meandered from a neigh- 
bouring cabin ; the knife-tray being half full of 
knives, and the knitting-box, or work-basket, of 
needles : however, he doubtless discovered his mis- 
take and his slippers, and, flourishing an empty 
sponge-bag in place of a pocket-handkerchief (for 
he persists, too, like the other, in his green-hand- 
hood, in always thinking that things are in, or near, 
the place where he last saw them), he goes forth 
reeling, and stumbling, and pitching about in a 
manner awful to behold, performing occasionally 
the most eccentric circumgyrations and extravagant 
antics, as a foundered balloon will sometimes do, 
taking for its partner the first chimney-pot that 
comes in its way. He is shortly after swept away 



376 



SPIRITS AND WATER. 



into the lee-scuppers, and no more is seen of him 
— for a considerable time, at least. These last 
accounts are not quite strictly historical, but I 
have seen, in sooth, strange things of the kind at 
sea, 

The gentleman with the lighted-cigar-nose-tip 
is seated in a sorrowful attitude, with nothing visi- 
ble of him but tip aforesaid peeping out of a well- 
pulled-up collar, and points of fingers clutching a 
large glass of brandy-and-water, without the water. 
The accommodating stewards have offered him this 
addition repeatedly and persuasively ; but, casting 
his eye over the broad Atlantic, he appeared to reply, 
" That with such a vast waste of water around 
them, it would be a pity to waste any more and 
to all representations of that estimable functionary, 
the knight of the basin and brandy-bottle, it 
seemed as though he repeated, still and ever, "No ! 
there was quite £ wash of waters ' enough already, 
and that he never felt a more decided dis-relish for 
that fine element," He resembled a gentleman 
who pathetically observed to a friend, on being 
counselled to mix some spirituous compound or other 
with a little of Adam's ale, " that it was totally 
unnecessary, as he could not drink it raw, even if he 
wished, for Nature had otherwise purwided " in 
short, that whenever he was in the near neighbour- 
hood of choice spirits, his mouth watered so much 
that there was no occasion for aught else. Another 
unfortunate victim seated near him appeared to 
view the briny deep with at least equal horror, and 
I am sure would have heartily reciprocated the 
sentiment a kindred sufferer expressed on one 
occasion with respect to that noble and sublime 
natural object, the sea. "Very fine; but it's a 



A ROUGH RIVER. 



377 



body of water I don't happen to like at all;" 
(when on it, I suppose). Has not this passenger a 
metallic, hard look, in dress and features both? 
Yet, like the softest, he succumbs ; his coat seems 
of buckram, lined with block-tin, his cravat of 
pasteboard, his hat an iron helm beaten to the 
usual beaver shape, his waistcoat of wood, his stock 
of steel ; and such wiry lines and stripes adorn his 
nether garments that he might seem to be wearing a 
bifurcated birdcage, — yet he succumbs like the 
softest : the iron appears melting now, or nappy, 
the buckram loose and flappy, wire looks limp, 
pasteboard pappy, block-tin sappy ; his very stock 
looks sea-sick ! When the poor wretch spoke, 
it seemed in gulps and gasps from outward 
perturbations and inward commotions ; the words 
seemed playing at leap-frog in his throat. He 
was rather emaciated — breakfast, dinner, and 
supper having been lately, to use a delicate expres- 
sion of " The Times," " diverted from their legiti- 
mate mission." These inexperienced voyagers are 
frequently amazed that the captain should not, at 
least, anchor just at dinner-time, especially if it is 
at all stormy, which would be so easy, and such a 
comfort ! 

After a few days we came, not in sight of the 
Tagus, for it was a foggy, dull night, but near it. 
Our voyage up the river was not a perfectly pros- 
perous one, for we ran against a guard-ship, and 
stove in one of her boats. The morning was 
very stormy and rough. The Tagus lashed itself 
into a perfect fury, fuming, and fretting, and 
literally foaming at the mouth, and tossing its 
head about, as though it would show the old 
Atlantic a river was no such tame affair, after 



378 



LISBON. 



all, as lie might think ; and, though he might 
swell and chafe in a passion, two could play at 
that game. It was, indeed, a wild, bleak morning. 
When we entered the boat, and made for the shore, 
the wind blew violently, and very glad we -were to 
find ourselves under shelter of the Braganza Hotel. 
Delphina greeted us with great cordiality and volu- 
bility, telling us in not superfine Portuguese an 
American family had just left the apartments we 
had formerly occupied (which thus were happily 
vacant), and that she would arrange them very 
quickly in the way we had them before. She ful- 
filled her promise, and was amazingly active, 
arranging, cleaning, changing, and re-ordering 
everything as if she had had Prospero's wand, or, at 
any rate, Harlequin's. Notwithstanding the reputed 
idleness of the Portuguese, she ran about carrying 
heavy articles of furniture as lightly as if they had 
been feathers. How she flew along with chairs 
and washhand-stands ! I am not sure she did not 
flutter in once with a bedstead, or something not 
much less airy, hoisted upon her head. 

The transformation was soon complete, she being 
aided in these labours by a curious sort of second 
housemaid, which second housemaid was a boy, con- 
sisting chiefly of a huge shaggy head of hair, and 
two great rolling, shining, black eyes ; he was a help 
to the waiters and everybody else, in fact, — indeed, 
a kind of boy-of-all-work. He usually made his 
appearance with particularly black fingers and face, 
and a prodigious display of no linen and many 
white teeth. Poor Joaquim ! he had no sinecure - 
office, I suspect ; neither had they who had the 
superintendence of his house-maidish and odd- 
boy-ical education ; for though, on the whole, 



LISBON SIGHTS. 



379 



lie seemed a hard-working, good-natured lad, his 
pastors and masters (the waiters) must have found 
a preponderating love of mischief and frolic. 

There are several places that I did not visit 
when I was at Lisbon before, which I ought to have 
gone to see, but I put them off till my return, and at 
this very return I put them off sine die. Among 
these was the Great Public Library. It is said to 
be a huge assemblage of volumes, increased by the 
book-booty collected from all the despoiled con- 
vents and monasteries of the kingdom. These are 
unmethodically heaped together in the small cells 
and narrow cloisters of an old Franciscan convent ; 
and most inadequately and wretchedly are they 
lodged. It contains some rare and choice old 
books, besides eight thousand manuscripts. There 
is also an immense numismatic collection of medals. 
Among the scarce volumes is an edition of the Holy 
Scriptures by Gottenberg, printed in 1454 at May- 
ence, and a life of our Saviour, printed at Lisbon 
in 1496. Some of the old manuscripts are magni- 
ficently illuminated. One splendid manuscript 
illuminated Bible of the 1 2th century, — says a little 
work on Lisbon, — contains the disputed passage of 
St. John's Gospel (chap. v. 7) ; also there is here 
a life of the Emperor Vespasian, of which it is 
supposed no other copy exists. There are more 
than three hundred thousand books altogether. 

The Academy of the Fine Arts is contained in 
the same building ; this Academy comprehends 
architecture, sculpture, and also schools of design. 
There is, I fancy, a picture-gallery besides, where 
there are some fine paintings of the Italian masters 
— a Vandyke, and a good many productions of 
Portuguese artists — whether good or bad I know 



380 



" SLOW COACHES. " 



not. The director of this Academy is Francisco 
d'Assis, a sculptor of much renown in Portugal. 

Most tourists who bend then steps to this capital 
go also to see a singular collection of old coaches, 
and very slow coaches must they be' — not the visitors, 
but the vehicles. The building, in which these moul- 
dering reliques of antiquity are placed, was erected 
expressly by Dom John the Fifth ; it is in the 
neighbourhood of the Alcantara Bridge, at the Cal- 
vario. This old royal coach-house is reported to be 
a queer cmiosity-shop, in its way, and had I had time 
I should have paid it a little visit • the carriages are 
said to appear, some of them, precisely like mummies 
of coaches. One vehicle that, by all accounts, would 
hardly seem to be made to go on, but to stand still 
— huge, ponderous, and massive — is supposed to 
be six hundred years old. Another was made in 
Brazil, and richly decorated with golden ornaments. 
The state-coach of Dom Alfonso Henry is thought a 
very curious specimen (he began to reign in 1128) ; 
it has seven Venetian windows, beautifully finished ; 
it displays gilt-bronze embellishments, paintings care- 
fully done, and cushions that once shone resplendent 
with elaborate embroiderings, interwoven cunningly 
with threads of gold, — also embossed work, and other 
similar decorations. On some of the others are beau- 
tiful relievos. A state carriage of King DenijS is 
there, too, in which it is by the imaginative sup- 
posed his sainted and matchless consort, Queen 
Elizabeth, must have sat ; yet one can hardly fancy 
a saint in a state-coach either, (though to bump 
along in such a crazy bone-setting thing as this must 
have been, might have mortified the flesh sorely, it 
is true,) nor picture to one's self a canonised being 
with running footmen or outriders. 



THE ITALIAN OPERA-HOUSE. 



381 



The oddest part of the exhibition must be, that 
light modern carriages mingle among those musty 
and lumbering rattle-traps of the solemn past, and 
cheek-by-jowl with huge unwieldy state-coaches, 
whose panels and boxes were covered with em- 
blazonings, coats of arms, trophies, devices, draw- 
ings, paintings, sculptures, and gold and bronze, 
and wmich are cumbered with weighty silver plates, 
and stiff brocade and massy fringe, you have fragile 
little donkey-carts ; and light, small beiiinas of 
some of the youthful infantes and infantas, pre- 
senting a remarkable contrast to their vehicular 
predecessors. Besides these, there are some olden 
ricketty chaises or chariots, awkward as the waggons 
of a later epoch, and some ancient Spanish convey- 
ances, originally brought to Lisbon by an Infanta 
of Spain (or rather they brought her, also her suite 
— for I do not mean to insinuate she came over 
alone in half-a-dozen carriages, as the famous mon- 
key did in two ships). This Infanta was Donna 
Maria Victoria, which princess was married to 
Joseph the First. These carriages Avere loaded with 
gildings, ornaments, rich stuffs, and costly velvet 
galloons. 

Some of these same royal rattle-traps are de- 
scribed as a cross between the famous antique 
Roman triumphal chariots, such as were wont to 
have an apparatus of weeping captives, in fetters, 
fastened to them, forming a peculiar drag-chain 
to their wheels — and the buggies and tilburies of 
the present day. Among these were some cars, 
used to carry figures of saints in great processions. 

The Italian Opera-House here is called the 
Theatre cle San Carlos. It was opened in April 
1793, in honour of the birth of Donna Maria 



382 



FUMES AND FANCIES. 



Theresa (aunt to the reigning queen), afterwards 
consort of Don Carlos of Spain : it has various 
decorations, and there is a painting on the ceiling 
of the hall by the gifted Machado. There is 
accommodation for about six hundred and fifty 
persons in the pit of the theatre. There are five 
tiers of twelve boxes on each side. The Queen's 
box, in height, ascends through three rows. The 
boxes, it appears, have each a key, with a little plate 
of metal fastened to it, on which is its number. 
On any box being taken, this key is presented, 
and has to be returned at the end of the season, 
or whenever the period of the engagement expires. 
The fitting up is poor and bare, without the light, 
brilliant, gilded splendour of the Havanna Opera- 
House, or the splendid accessories of the London one 
— in the boxes the cushionless benches, carpetless 
floors, paperless walls, and unclraperied fronts, make 
a meagre and mean show ! yet amply were these 
insignificant disadvantages compensated, according 
to a German author, by a counter-balancing and 
extraordinary indulgence and delight. During the 
representations, and in the presence of the Queen 
and court — thanks to a remarkable liberality dis- 
played by the managers — the pit, galleries, and 
boxes, are surrounded with perpetual clouds of 
dense tobacco smoke. The German author cannot 
conceal his rapture. " What an example is this," he 
cries, " to German directors of theatres !" Did he 
not evidently think this liberal arrangement might 
be most advantageously introduced into their own 
theatres? No wonder he was so delighted; how 
charming, instead of seeing what is going on on 
the stage, or the faces and dresses of the fair 
occupants of the boxes, and the regal countenance 



DESCRIPTION OF THE OPERA. 383 



itself, to be saluted and suffocated with these 
interminable volleys of thick smoke ! a yellow fog 
of tobacco — a pipe-obfuscation ! But probably this 
is changed now. 

Some may think the German author's opinions 
and observations singular ones — they are rather 
original ; a countryman of his tells us (and perhaps 
he approves, too, and thinks this would be an 
equally desirable improvement, which he fervently 
wishes might be recommended to German operatic 
managers), that persons " in the theatres are 
allowed to talk in a loud voice, and to move con- 
stantly to and fro, with that restless mania for 
walking so observable in the natives of the Pen- 
insula." It is in vain to talk of the delights of 
a good Italian Opera thus : it seems here perfec- 
tion if people talk as loud as they can, and 
move about as bustlingly, so that you can hear 
nothing, while " everlasting clouds of smoke" pre- 
vent you from seeing anything. It is probable 
persons might be found to disagree with such 
original opinions. But I can hardly believe our Teu- 
tonic friend is right, and that, when the Queen is 
present, her subjects are thus allowed to indulge in 
their tabbatical and peripatetic predilections, without 
let or hindrance ; if so, the ancient formalities of 
Portuguese state-ceremonial must, indeed, be very 
considerably modified. What would the shades of 
the former periwigged, pompous, high-heeled, buck- 
ram-clad, bespangled monarchs of Portugal say to 
such flippant, flighty innovations ? At the first half- 
whiff, would they not have shaken in their high-heels 
with rage, not fear? The whole puff would have 
been high treason, and the monarch w T ould have 
fretted while they fumed — the cloud would have 



384 



A TRAGIC TALE. 



cleared away the indignant court while it obscured 
everything else. 

I do not know if Portuguese court-etiquette, on 
particular subjects, is as preposterously exagge- 
rated in its details now as it was many years 
back ; at least, according to accounts one has heard, 
and books one has read. I should imagine it has 
relaxed much of its extreme rigour and severity in 
these days. 

There was a horrible circumstance once hap- 
pened at Lisbon. An old queen had been for a 
long time buried in peace and a splendid court dress. 
For some reason, which I forget, it was decided upon 
that she should be taken out of her sepulchre, — not 
to crown and enthrone her, like the beauteous Inez de 
Castro, but perhaps to see if she had taken to her 
grave more diamond necklaces and bracelets than 
were absolutely necessary under the circumstances of 
the case ; at any rate she was disentombed. Before 
the fresh ceremony of consigning her to her narrow 
bed was accomplished, it was considered a proper 
thing to give her majesty a complete new suit of 
clothes. Perhaps it was in the days of hoops and 
high coiffures, and, if so, what a singularly shaped 
coffin must have been required. " Narrow bed " 
did I say ? nay, a very broad bed must have been 
provided for her in her last home if it was so. The 
duties of the toilette were to be performed, according 
to all immemorial precedent, by the princesses of the 
blood-royal. The three daughters, therefore, were 
doomed to undress and dress up again the defunct 
queen. The Portuguese princesses were too well 
brought up to attempt to decline this dreadful duty, 
and probably, indeed, their refusal would have been 
useless : they proceeded, then, to discharge it with 



DRESSING A DEAD QUEEN. 



385 



all the firmness possible. Despite the body having 
been embalmed, the process was described as being a 
most fearful one, and, overcome by the complicated, 
accumulated horrors, by their own sorrowful filial feel- 
ings, and the trying part they were compelled to act, 
the poor princesses fainted over and over again ; but 
each time, after restoratives had been administered, 
they were obliged to address themselves again to 
their awful task. I am not quite sure that one did 
not afterwards fall a victim to this outrageously over- 
strained etiquette. At length the terrible toilette 
was completed, and the poor queen was re-ribboned, 
re-laced, be-fanned, and jewelled in the latest mode, 
as though she had been dug up expressly to set the 
fashion to those dowdies of ancestresses (of her 
husband's) who had preceded her, like an illustra- 
tion of " La Belle Assemblee," or " Le petit Courier 
des Dames;" and she was allowed to return to her 
quiet tomb, dressed up in the very pink of whatever 
costume was then the rage. 

I cannot but admire our windows in these 
apartments : they have a good deal of beautiful 
coloured glass in them, and cast lovely and rich re- 
flexions in the rooms, particularly in the morning 
and evening. The windows are immensely high, 
and rather pointed and gothic-shaped, and really 
exceedingly handsome. The doors, also, are of 
great height, and of a similar shape, with pointed 
coloured windows inserted above them. This plan 
was not without its advantages : for instance, if a 
candle was in one room it cast a light, more or less 
clear, through almost every apartment in the suite ; 
and so, if you wanted to fetch your pocket-handker- 
chief or work-box from the dressing-room, you had 
not to light or carry a candle expressly. The stained 

c c 



386 



A WONDERFUL HOUSEMAID. 



glass in all the windows was arranged in a fanciful 
multitude of delicate mosaic-like patterns, and alto- 
gether this species of vari-coloured vitreous patch- 
work had a most agreeable and brilliant effect. 

It was not always, however, becoming to the in- 
mates of the apartment : only look at poor Delphina, 
or " Dolphin," — as she has been renamed by a 
British female, who, as often happens, has not the 
gift of tongues (save in the singular), — Delphina 
really looks all the colours of a " dying dolphin," 
methinks, here ! Has her chin not suddenly sick- 
ened to the deepest depth of yellow jaundice? 
her throat not as suddenly flushed up to the 
highest height of scarlet fever ? Behold the nose, 
with a purple bridge and an apple-green tip, the 
hair fawn-coloured, shot with lavender and rose, 
the forehead a silvery grey, the lips stained with 
more than mulberry dye, — the stripe of colour ex- 
tending towards each ear, giving a false appearance 
of fearful width to that feature, which was too wide 
already ; — the eyes a gay cherry-colour, with pale 
pink lids and lilac lashes ; the right eyebrow orange 
and vermilion, and the left a light strawberry roan, 
and one of the cheeks blue, and the other brown ; 
teeth blue and brown to match, with a dash of 
aforesaid cherry-colour. I will not vouch for Del- 
phina' s actually showing all these colours at once, 
but it might have been so. 

That peculiarly strange little individual, Joa- 
quim, was a ninth wonder of the world, being here 
the second housemaid, hundredth hanger-on, fifth 
waiter, first page, last cook (very last of all, I 
should hope), and deputy-pro visionary-vice-assist- 
ant - sub - supernumerary - under - or - over - and - above, 
lacquey extraordinary ; and, in short, a kind of do- 



BOYS WILL BE BOYS. 



337 



mestic-of-ease was he to the whole household — he 
proved a very convenient scapegoat, too, for them to 
lay all manner of blame upon ; on him were fathered 
all breakages ; on him all mistakes, misunderstand- 
ings, and misapprehensions, all misdeeds and mal- 
administrations in many functions. At one and the 
same moment Joaquim could adroitly contrive to 
break, maim, and disable, for the term of its natural 
and artificial life, the clock at No. 6, and the china 
ornaments on the mantel-piece of No. 16 ; by some 
extraordinary influence of odd-boyism, cause the 
dinner to be late in the Spanish ambassador's 
apartments below-stairs, and the candlesticks to be 
without candles in the American tourist's drawing- 
room above ; cause all the doors to slam terribly in 
the chief passage, and constrain all the windows to 
remain open in the principal suite of apartments ; 
occasion the fire to go rapidly out in the kitchen, and 
contrive to diffuse a strong odour of burnt flannel in 
the Englishman's sitting-room ; moisten the steps 
of the best staircase with refreshing dews of lamp- 
oil, and at the identical moment wither and spoil 
every flower on the balcony outside ; produce a 
noisy and heavy banging about of furniture over- 
head, at the exact instant that he is spilling a tureen 
of hot soup over the carpet of the saloon beneath, 
and daub the young artist's sketch with butter, 
fish-sauce, and honey, while he is actually delivering 
a wrong message at the farthest end of the town. 
But, after all, what is there in these ubiquitous 
performances more than any other odd-boy can 
satisfactorily, and with facility, perform? Was not 
there a similarly gifted being in a ship I was on 
board of on the Pacific, who, in his nautical odd-boy- 
ship, surpassed all his brethren, the uneven lads of 



388 



joaquim's physiognomy. 



the land? Did he not, in the boatswain's and 
crew's opinion, make the Avind change incessantly, 
the vessel lurch violently, the biscuit turn mouldy, 
the meat musty, the she-goat refuse to give milk, 
the parrots adopt the silent system, and a big mer- 
chantman bear down upon us in a dark night, and 
nearly run us down ? The great Wizard of the 
North, or the South, cannot for a moment possibly 
compete with these young professors of the black 
art in feats of legerdemain, and the most compli- 
cated conjuring; Chrononotonthologos was a mere 
baby in arms to them ; Aldeberontefoscifornio a 
contemptible ninny-hammer. Tell me not of the 
snake-charmers of swart Afric, or the magicians 
of Araby, or of miracle-mongers nearer home ; odd- 
boys could beat all the jugglers of the Indies, and 
sorcerers of the East, any day of the year, and 
this particular especial Portuguese one did not, 
perchance, outshine the rest of the fraternity in 
this point. He took it all very easily, and seemed 
as happy as the day was long, in general ; with his 
uncropt locks sticking about in all directions, and 
his eyes sparkling between and amongst them, like 
those of an Isle of Skye terrier, — dressed in his loose 
jacket, somewhat resembling a worn-out door-mat, or 
old thatch, and incessantly grinning from ear to ear 
— at least from the place where the one member 
might be supposed to be, to the place where the 
other might be imagined to lurk; for under that 
thicket of hair they were completely lost. One could 
not but feel glad to see that merry grin, in spite of 
knocks and cuffs, and huffs, and blames, and 
names. Youth and health, and a light heart, as- 
serted themselves, " and all went merry as a" dinner 
bell, for Joaquim; — though he had to endure, doubt- 



joaqtjim's physiognomy. 



389 



less, all tlie disagreeables and small inflictions that 
the living creature, genus homo, species odd-boy, 
has to confront ; yet Joaquhn had a good master 
and mistress, and not a bad place either, compara- 
tively speaking, when we reflect on what some 
urchins of the kind have to bear in their wretched 
odd-boyhood. Still, haply, an irascible adult would, 
now and then, pull the lad's nose or chin — only 
too pertinaciously, or pluck a few handfuls of his 
hair (he could have spared enough to be-wig half 
Lisbon), as if bent on holding " material guaran- 
tees " for the prompt execution of their orders. 



390 THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



I will not leave Lisbon without saying something 
of the famous earthquake, whose traces are still in 
certain places to be seen : at least, when we were 
driving out, some time ago, a few shattered frag- 
ments were pointed out to us, with the remark : 
" Those are ruined remains of a building destroyed 
by the great earthquake."* Lisbon perhaps, on the 
whole, gives one more the idea of an earth quaky 
place than Lima, — so fertile in these unpleasant 
productions of nature ; its dry, dusty look, possibly, 
is the cause of this impression. When the parched 
earth is constantly cracked a little, probably you 
would not be so greatly surprised at its cracking 
much. It must be confessed, also, that in a good, 
grave city, where amusements are not plentiful, and 
people are not accustomed to employ themselves 
very assiduously, the time will hang heavily enough 
but too frequently ; and when the people are all 
yawning, the sympathising ground (we know well 
how catching a good gape is) may be expected 

* In one of the squares still stands the great arch of the 
sanctuary of a fine Carmelite church, founded in 1389, and 
destroyed by the earthquake of 17*55, as well as a Gothic 
porch, which was part of the same church. 



THE FIRST SIGNAL. 



391 



to yawn too. However, let me seriously attempt 
some description of this extraordinary and melan- 
choly visitation. 

The great earthquake at Lisbon took place on 
Nov. 1, 1755.* Previously to this dreadful event, 
the summer had been observed to be at a less high 
temperature than it ordinarily is in this country, 
and there had been a great deal of rain in the year. 
For more than a month before this convulsion of 
nature, the weather had been tolerably fine and 
clear. On the morning of the first, during the earlier 
hours, there had been a dense fog, but this was 
shortly cleared away by the sun, which then shone 
forth with his full resplendence; nothing foretokened 
the near approach of the terrific catastrophe that 
was so soon to bring ruin, anguish, dismay, and 
devastation on the fair city, that seemed to smile in 
such perfect security and peace. 

The first slight signal of the coming visitation 
was a faint motion, a light tremor, succeeded by a 
considerable shaking, but not more than an unusual 
number of carriages passing at one time might have 
produced ; then came a low, muttering, grumbling 
sound, like a gathering storm, and compared by 
some writers to the adroitly manufactured thunder 
at the theatres, which they say it more resembled 
than the genuine grumbling of electricity-charged 
clouds. So slight, in short, was the warning, that 
it was scarcely remarked by the majority of the 
people, much less regarded. Thus were they un- 
prepared for the awful occurrences that so soon 
were to overwhelm them with irremediable disaster. 

* Five years before, a severe shock had alarmed the 
inhabitants. The great earthquake was felt through all the 
south of Europe. 



392 



THE SECOND SHOCK. 



This growling noise only lasted for the space of a 
minute, or even less ; and at thirty-five minutes after 
nine o'clock the tremendous crash took place which 
shook the ill-fated city to its very foundations. 
Those among the miserable inhabitants who had 
escaped with their lives were paralysed and horror- 
stricken, and knew not where to fly for safety, nor 
w r hat to do for the best, under these woeful circum- 
stances. 

The dread, stunning sound, is described as 
having been as loud as if the whole city, with every 
building it contained, had fallen at once. The 
vibrations were short, rapid, and fearfully strong. 
The houses that fell not at first exhibited hideous 
rents and cracks ; in nearly all, the upper stories 
fell almost instantaneously. Big stones were 
dropping from the fissures, and rafters starting out 
from the roofs. Thousands of walls were opening 
and closing in the most appalling manner, as if 
even inanimate things were agape with terror ! and 
from the number of buildings precipitated to the 
ground by the powerful concussion rose enormous 
clouds of dust mixed with lime ; these clouds, and 
possibly also volcanic exhalations, not only spread 
a fearful darkness around, but half-suffocated the 
unfortunate beings who were the trembling spec- 
tators of the dreadful disaster. Vast numbers 
perished, crushed among the down-plunging timbers 
and falling houses. 

After a short time this ceased, and then there was 
a slight pause, when the oscillations recommenced. 
The nature of the peculiar motion was altered ; and 
the walls and buildings that remained standing were 
horribly tossed from side to side, with a rough, harsh 
grating, and loud noise. This second awful shock 



AWFUL RISE OF THE RIVER. 



393 



laid in the dust those edifices that had been shaken 
or damaged before, but not quite destroyed. The 
entire city was said to appear to undulate to and 
fro, in the most marvellous manner, like the huge 
waves of the ocean when the storm is upon it, and 
a vast part of it was abruptly plunged at once in 
an abyss of ruin. During this second dreadful con- 
cussion, a splendid, newly-built, marble quay, which 
had cost vast sums, was utterly sunk and swallowed 
up, together with hundreds of persons who had 
collected upon it, in the vain hope that there they 
should be out of the reach of peril. A great number 
of small vessels and boats, that were anchored near 
it, also entirely disappeared in the same moment ; 
it seemed as though a whirlpool had thus instan- 
taneously dragged them down to destruction. These 
boats and vessels were all crammed with anxious 
human beings, who fondly imagined their safety 
w^ould be insured by their thus leaving the rocking 
shores. The large ships that were riding at anchor 
were driven from their moorings ; they were seen 
tossing and tumbling violently, as if in a tempest- 
uous sea. Some were swiftly carried to the oppo- 
site shore of the river, while others among them 
were whirled round with the most extraordinary 
rapidity, as if they would be dashed to a myriad 
fragments. Boats of a considerable size were 
observed bottom-upwards ; vessels were furiously 
clashing against each other, driven by an unseen 
force. 

It is supposed, during this most prodigious con- 
cussion, the river rose about fifty feet, and almost 
immediately subsided again. The cavity where the 
boats and quay had sunk had closed up completely, 
and no sign of a splinter or fragment of any kind 



394 



THE DEAD AND THE DYING. 



could be discovered. The people on shore were 
thrown into additional consternation by the me- 
nacing and mysterious appearances in the river. The 
dreadful cry was raised — " The sea, the sea, too, is 
corning to swallow us !" At the place where the 
noble Tagus is four miles broad, its waters were seen 
rolling and rising in the most terrific manner, while 
not a breath of wind was perceptible to account 
for the agitation of their surface. Shortly there 
appeared not far off a vast and hideous mass of 
water, like a heaving, moving mountain, hurrying 
on in its foaming, howling, impetuous rage, towards 
the shores. In vain did hundreds of the multi- 
tude run; it overtook them, consigning numbers 
to a watery grave ; others were left struggling in the 
rushing, furious stream, and with great difficulty 
they made their way back to the almost equally 
insecure land. 

The horror and desperation of the unfortunate 
population of this devoted city may be imagined ; 
happy might those be accounted who had met a 
quick death, for horrible indeed was the condition of 
crowds of miserable wretches. Mangled, maimed, 
half-crushed, and seeing their dearest relatives lace- 
rated and destroyed before their eyes ! — what fell 
despair, what distracting agony, must they have 
endured ! It must have been an awful scene, indeed, 
altogether. The wounded and the dead lying in 
promiscuous heaps, — writhing and moaning heaps, 
— for the very dead were stirred by the convulsive 
movements of the sorely-stricken, tortured living, 
with whom they were entangled • the masses 
of ruin blocking up every thoroughfare • the unfor- 
tunate survivors searching for relatives and friends, 
children, or parents ; decrepit beings stumbling 



THE DEAD AND THE DYING. 



395 



and staggering along, with blood-bedabbled grey- 
hair ; motherless infants piteously sobbing and 
wailing ; and sick wretches, some dragged from 
a death-bed to dispute for a few hours the victory 
with the great Conqueror, perhaps through the 
tender care of some fond and devoted friend, who, 
in high health and strength himself, has been 
stricken down beside — and before the — dying be- 
loved one he so wildly exerted himself to save. 
What a world of woe ! 

Many a strange sight, too, was there. Corpses 
were beheld, lying with blocks of masonry half 
covering them, as if they were partially escaping 
from their superincumbent tombstones. Maniacs 
were allowed to wander forth free, and hurried to 
and fro, fiercely yelling with wonder and alarm, or 
sometimes — more sad still — went laughing and 
shouting aloud, with a monstrous, fiendish, but 
irrational joy ! Animals, too, half wild with fear, 
now and then dashed past, as if driven on by all 
the Furies. Here and there strode along priests 
in their rich sacerdotal robes, who had hastened 
terrified from the churches, where they had been 
officiating in their sacred calling. Hundreds and 
thousands, striving to fly they knew not whither, 
were struggling and clambering with desperate 
eagerness over the obstacles interposed by the ac- 
cumulated and still-accumulating ruins in the tot- 
tering streets ; others were seen standing like 
statues, stony, pale, chill, grasping images of saints, 
not more motionless, it seemed, or lifeless than 
themselves, or crucifixes of wood, that were some- 
times strained to their deadened and faintly-beating 
breasts, and sometimes glued to their white, quiver- 
ing, livid lips. Delicate ladies, the tender soles of 



396 FRIGHTFUL CRIES AND SHRIEKS. 



whose feet had scarcely touched the ground before, 
with dishevelled hair and half-clothed, seemed 
nerved and fired with a feverish unnatural strength, 
or as rigid as unbending iron they stood there, 
armed with firm resolve; while strong women of the 
peasant class, ghastly and shivering, often, on the 
contrary, appeared bent and weakened with very 
terror — all were mingled in bewildering confusion. 
Sometimes, as a venerable ecclesiastic passed by, 
the wretched beings would press round him to 
entreat his blessing, — would hasten to touch his 
sacred robes, and to hear his few words of encourage- 
ment and consolation. 

Meanwhile, the whole air perpetually resounded 
with frightful cries, shrieks, groans, prayers, and sup- 
plications. " Misericordia ! Misericordia!" seemed 
to go up from all hearts, and to pierce all hearts. 
They shrieked it as if they would have it indeed 
penetrate the sky above them ! In a large uncovered 
space before the church of St. Paul were congregated 
enormous numbers of people, of all conditions and 
classes. There were seven chief canons of the Patri- 
archial Church there, attired in purple robes and 
rochets ; they strove to administer some comfort to 
the alarmed and dejected concourse. Yet but one 
expression pervaded all countenances. Soldiers, 
children, women, ecclesiastics, students, merchants, 
labourers, all exhibited that one expression of deep 
concentrated horror — of the strong appalling con- 
sciousness that the reckoning for their sins was at 
hand — that their doom was approaching, and that 
all human power and consolation must be in vain. 
Yet, mingled with this, in the faces of many was 
the sublimer expression of rooted faith in the only 
Being who could shield and protect them amidst 



THE THIRD SHOCK. 



397 



this chaotic, death-bestridden gloom, and wide- 
spreading desolation. They felt that this was their 
only source of safety; their only rock of refuge and 
of trust. 

The third shock was not so terrible as the two 
first, but the sea once more rushed in furiously, and 
subsided again with equal promptitude. Indeed, 
the sweeping surges flowed back with such incre- 
dible impetuosity, that boats, w r hich had been in 
seven fathoms of water, were left completely dry ; 
and thus the water continued for some time, now 
hurrying forward with overwhelming force, and then 
returning with the same velocity and violence. 
What saved the lower portions of Lisbon (so ex- 
posed to the action of the waves) from a total demo- 
lition from this cause, was the fact, that the force of 
the rushing billows was slightly decreased from the 
somewhat winding course the resistless stream had 
to follow. The shock was said to be felt out at sea 
at a distance of forty leagues. 

Some persons believed that the actual situation 
of the bar, at the mouth of the river, from the 
terrific violence of the concussions, had been 
altered. It was reported that a vessel, endeavouring 
to pass through the original channel, had foundered ; 
while another had struck on the sands, and her 
safety had been greatly imperilled, though subse- 
quently she was got through without any material 
damage. 

There was one more shock that affected the 
Tagus, but in a less remarkable degree • yet men on 
horseback had to gallop as hard as their animals 
could possibly carry them on the high-road to 
Belem (one side of which lies exposed to the river), 
to get out of the way of the boiling, roaring waves. 



398 



SUDDEN CONFLAGRATION. 



In several places eye-witnesses asserted that the bed 
of the Tagus appeared above the surface. From 
shore to shore, at one time, the bar seemed to be dry. 
This was just before the great mountain -waves rushed 
in with such irresistible vehemence. The generality 
of the people tried to escape by way of Belem, as it 
was probably imagined the earthquake was less 
severe in that direction. Those wretched refugees 
hardly had time, after they arrived in that spot, to 
congratulate themselves upon their escape, and to 
try and collect their scattered thoughts, and recover 
their outwearied energies, when, to their unspeak- 
able consternation and unimaginable distress, their 
desolated city was seen to be enveloped in smoke 
and flames in almost every quarter at once. 

These flames continued to advance on their de- 
structive path for at least six days. Eew, if any, 
exertions were made to arrest the progress of the 
devouring element. A stupor of blank despair ap- 
peared to possess every breast. So dreadfully did 
the fire act its devastating part during these days of 
horror, that contemporaneous chronicles have ex- 
pressed a doubt as to whether the earthquake or the 
flames had committed the most extensive and lasting 
injuries. At the commencement of this terrible 
fire, it was supposed that it was occasioned by 
natural or accidental causes. Shortly afterwards it 
was suspected, and some think ascertained, that it 
was the incendiary work of monsters, who took a 
cruel advantage of this disastrous opportunity to 
commit the most shameful and audacious robberies ; 
and fearing that order might be restored, and 
their villanous abominations and atrocities put an 
end to, they thus devised and put into execution 
the hideous and dastardly plan of the conflagra- 



ORIGIN OF THE FIRE. 



399 



tion, for the purpose of perpetuating the miserable 
confusion, tumult, and universal paroxysms of 
dismay. 

Most of these heartless villains, if not all, were 
felons, who had been set free from their prison in 
consequence of part of the walls falling ; more for- 
tunate than most of their poor fellow-citizens, 
although their lives had been placed in imminent 
jeopardy, they had escaped. The grievous calamity, 
that brought such wide destruction and ruin, 
favoured their flight, and but few of them, it seems, 
comparatively speaking, had suffered much during 
the frightful concussions. 

Some accounts say that this gang of hardened 
desperadoes did not originally set fire to the 
buildings ; but, that after the conflagration had 
once begun, they took care it should not languish 
or expire, but fostered it to the best of their ability, 
constantly applying the flambeau to fresh houses, 
and kindling whatever appeared the most com- 
bustible materials. They might, however, have 
spared themselves the pains, for they would have 
found nobody to disturb them in their depredations. 
The city was already like a city of the dead, for- 
saken and abandoned to its fate, and to these 
fiendish wretches, who could batten and feast in the 
funereal footsteps of Misery and Calamity. One man, 
who was afterwards apprehended and condemned 
to death, after acknowledging his guilt in many 
particulars, confessed that he had himself set fire to 
the Royal Palace ; that he had exulted in having 
done this ; and he died protesting with the latest 
gasp that his object and desire had been, that the 
whole Royal Family should fall victims to the flames ! 
This most execrable miscreant was a malefactor 



400 



GALLANT TRAIT IN A YOUTH, 



who had for some offence against the laws been 
condemned to the galleys. 

Some think that the frightful fire originated in 
the illuminations of the altars in all the nunneries, 
churches, and chapels of the metropolis ; the 1st of 
November being All Saints' Day, a high festival in 
the Roman Catholic Church. The lighted tapers, 
lamps, and candles, naturally kindled into a blaze 
the drapery and woodwork that fell confusedly 
around with the violent rocking of the edifices, or 
their partial destruction. Of course the flames were 
sure to spread, unchecked as they were, and the 
neighbouring dwellings were soon wrapped in fire 
and smoke. 

A very gallant trait is recorded of a young Por- 
tuguese of noble family. This youth was the com- 
manding officer of the guard at the Royal Mint, an 
exceedingly strong edifice, that had not suffered any 
very considerable injury, save in the portion nearest 
to the Tagus. All around it, however, looked fear- 
fully threatening — houses half-fallen and still falling 
encircled it ; instant destruction seemed menacing 
it from all sides ; every soldier belonging to the 
guard had forsaken it ; and the youthful officer 
remained alone. He was scarcely more than 
seventeen years of age, and he displayed the utmost 
intrepidity, and the most cool, calm, and unshaken 
courage and resolution. What would the tumul- 
tuous horrors of a battle-field have been com- 
pared with that dreadful scene? 

When utterly deserted and alone — for like 
unconscious clay remained the swooning, gashed, 
half-crushed, bleeding objects that lay around, 
scarcely distinguishable from the dust which 
covered them, save by their dripping gore ; that 



AMID THE TERRORS OF THE SCENE. 



401 



oozed redly through, or ever and anon the quivering 
throes of coming death, — when thus unsupported 
and alone, still he stood firm, amidst the most 
hideous convulsions of nature, — with the appalling 
spectacle of the disordered elements before him, — 
with all those dread appearances that made it seem 
as though wide creation was relapsing into formless 
chaos ; — startled, too, by the frequent deafening 
thunder-roar of the headlong crash, while the Earth 
was yawning and growing, as it were, one great 
grave, and, like Sin, greedily devouring her own 
offspring, as well as the works of his hands ; — 
still he stood firm, amidst ruins and death, and 
gigantic catastrophes, and astounding changes, and 
mysterious sounds, and dire, unearthly prodigies, 
and awful omens, and impending doom, and grim 
and horrible visions, — amidst gathering gloom 
and apparently supernatural events, with dismal 
shrieks from all parts resounding in his ears 
from hidden sufferers, — with the living and lacer- 
ated wretches I have described half buried in the 
ground around him, only adding to the terrors 
of the scene, and deplorably mangled corpses 
stretched on the surface, as if Earth had, in a 
horrible and ghastly revel, and in some mon- 
strous mood of demoniacally-inspired mirth, taken 
the wild and awful fancy to reject the Dead, 
and snatch the warm sentient Living to her ensan- 
guined and gnashing jaws ! Amidst all this 
mad uproar, this dread anarchy, these strange 
distortions, and these most fierce commotions, 
amidst all these unnatural, soul-curdling horrors, 
I say, still this young hero stood, calm and unap- 
palled. He stood there while each shock seemed 
the dreadful herald of the final judgment-thunders 



402 



A MILITARY EXAMPLE. 



to a shuddering world. With matchless bravery 
he stood there still, most magnanimously resolved 
to remain true to his charge, most valorously deter- 
mined to die at his post, though destruction should 
seize all around him. 

There was no friendly, heart- thrilling voice to buoy 
him up with trust and hope, and to cheer and encour- 
age him in his arduous path ; there was no flashing 
eye, lit with a kindred glow, to gaze in admiration 
on his noble conduct ; no braying trumpet sent a 
throb of enthusiastic ardour through his youthful 
breast ; Glory beckoned him not on ; Fame unrolled 
not her starry blazons before him ; — Victory waved 
not her reeking sword on high; — and Success 
pealed forth no inspiring paeans of joy ; he could not 
have felt even that his self-sacrifice and lofty devo- 
tion to his duty would ever be chronicled or known 
on earth, — yet this gallant boy remained steadfast 
as a rock, amid those surging waves of ruin, those 
shivered temples, and those wide-stretching gulfs, 
self-possessed and resolute to the last ! 

The Mint had more than two millions of money 
in it at that time, and it was supposed to be owing 
to the undaunted courage and constancy of this 
young officer that it was not rifled of its precious 
contents. Not only were his extreme bravery and 
spirit worthy of the highest admiration, but that 
remarkable coolness, presence of mind, and unmoved 
fortitude that he displayed ; and, altogether, there 
are few instances related in history of greater 
heroism, finer disinterestedness, or a firmer adher- 
ence to duty. 

In the middle part of the unfortunate me- 
tropolis the greatest destruction took place. Cer- 
tain portions of the town escaped as if almost 



ESCAPE OF THE KING AND QUEEN. 403 

by a miracle ; even in the very core and centre 
of the city, where, from the ravages of the 
fire, the most inconceivable devastation reigned, 
a few streets were astonishingly preserved. Among 
the churches that were consumed by the names, 
after being much shattered by the earthquake, 
were those of Santa Maria, Conceicao, Mag- 
del ena, St. Domingos, Patriarchal, Misericordia, 
Espirito Santo, S. Francisco, Corpo Santo, Tri )i- 
dade, Sacramento, Loretto, St. Paulo, Chagas, and 
Santa Engracia. Those churches that were nearly 
or completely demolished by the earthquake itself, 
without the auxiliary aid of the fire, were Santa 
Clara, N. Senhora do Monte, Santa Monica, N. 
Senhora da Penha da Eranca, with the parish church 
of a similar designation, Santa Anna, S. Pedro de 
Alcantara, Calvario, Santo Antonio dos Capuchos, 
and St. Vincent. The Convent of St. Vincent was 
merely injured in the upper portion ; it continued 
standing. Those of Madre de Deos, the Santos 
o Velho, and the Bernardines, were damaged 
greatly, though they were not totally given over 
to destruction. 

The king, with his consort and the royal family, 
had only quitted the palace a few minutes before it 
was wholly destroyed. A spectator of these scenes 
of terror and ruin said he observed, on passing the 
palace, that all the apartments where the royal 
family were accustomed to reside were, without 
exception, thrown down, and they must have pe- 
rished unavoidably, had they been there. 

As usual on such occasions, the most fragile 
and unsubstantial buildings bore the shock far 
better than the more solid ones. In the case of 
ravages by earthquakes, such unsubstantiality is 



404 



A SAD REVERSE. 



ever a great preservative. Of course there were 
some remarkable exceptions, but, as a general rule, 
the most solid and durably- built edifices fell the 
first. Every monastery, nunnery, parish church, 
public building, and palatial and aristocratical 
mansion, were the earliest destroyed, with in- 
credible numbers of fine houses belonging to the 
principal merchants and citizens, which looked as if 
they would have withstood many a rude and violent 
shock. 

Among other sad and curious spectacles to be 
seen, during the first days of tribulation and awe- 
struck amaze, were multitudes of forsaken carriages, 
mules, and horses, that had been employed, before 
the dreadful disasters began, in carrying persons 
to and fro on errands of pleasure and business. 
These w T ere rapidly deserted, and left masterless 
and tenantless. Neither occupants, drivers, riders, 
nor attendants of any kind were to be perceived 
accompanying them ; and, says the author of a truly 
interesting account of the event, who was an eye- 
witness of this dread scene, " of the poor animals, 
who seemed sensible of their hard fate, some few 
were killed, others wounded; but the greatest 
part, which had received no hurt, were left there 
to starve." The writer evidently possessed a kind 
heart, for, in the midst of all the complicated 
dangers and desolations with which he was sur- 
rounded, he could feel for these wretched brutes, 
and he says, after relating that the superb apparatus 
of the numerous shrines and chapels in the churches 
was left to the mercy of the first comer, and a vast 
accumulation of wealth was forgotten or forsaken 
• — " but this did not so much affect me as the 
distress of those poor animals. " 



THE GENERAL RUIN. 



405 



An immense number of persons were attending 
divine service when the first convulsions shook the 
earth. Little did they think, when they left their 
homes that morning, that they were leaving them 
for ever ! Little did they think, as they entered the 
church, that the hour was come to say their last 
prayer, and breathe their latest sigh of contrition 
and humility ! Yet happy were they to be sum- 
moned when thus solemnly and piously engaged. 

The number of individuals who are believed to 
have fallen victims to this terrific visitation amounted 
to more than sixty thousand. This number includes 
those who perished in the conflagration, and those 
who were buried afterwards in the ruins, while 
digging among the shattered remnants of houses 
and disjointed walls. Some days after the awful 
havoc was over, the state of the ruined and 
mournful city is described as most lamentable and 
shocking. The streets were almost impassable and 
unapproachable, not only from the dense masses of 
overthrown remains choking up nearly every out- 
let and avenue, and the still falling, smoking frag- 
ments, scattered about in every direction, but from 
the pestilent exhalations arising from the crowded 
corpses that also obstructed the thoroughfares. 
In various places, jammed amongst mountains 
of broken masonry and stone, were other moun- 
tains more mournful, — of heaped -up, blackened, 
lacerated bodies, some shockingly mangled, as it ap- 
peared, by dogs, others actually roasted to cinders, 
and some of them only partially consumed. The 
stench was so deadly and dreadful that the survivors 
began to entertain serious apprehensions of a plague 
breaking out, to add to their miserable condition ; 
for miserable, indeed, it must have been. Thou- 



406 



SUBTERRANEOUS ERUPTIONS. 



sands and thousands were wandering about in utter 
destitution in the open fields, homeless, helpless, 
hopeless, broken-hearted, starving, and in a state 
bordering on distraction. 

So intermingled in one common wreck were 
countless multitudes of houses and buildings, that 
persons perfectly well acquainted with the city could 
not find out even the site of particular streets. It 
was a desolate wilderness of charred bones, smoul- 
dering ruins, splintered fragments, loose scattered 
stones, and vast heaps of rubbish, while a few of 
its still standing but mutilated monuments were 
sad and failing representatives of what it once had 
been, — like worn and wasted memorial-pillars to 
that departed city of the departed, — that dead city 
of the dead, — and here and there they served as 
landmarks in the mouldering desert. A natural 
desert would, indeed, have seemed cheerful and 
bright, compared with a suddenly-created, death- 
haunted, and ruin-encumbered one like this. It 
was believed by many that fiery eruptions were to 
be seen issuing from the fissures of the earth during 
this momentous period, and that fountain -like 
columns of fine white sand rose out of the ground, 
which columns ascended to a surprising height. It 
was natural that some should attribute the great 
fire that followed so immediately the steps of this 
mighty earthquake to the agency of subterraneous 
eruptions ; but the most likely cause is the one 
already referred to — the illumination of the sacred 
edifices on that day. An Englishman of some consi- 
deration (and but one) lost his life during the fearful 
catastrophe — this was the Rev. J. Manlay, who was 
President of the English College at Lisbon. 

The loss sustained by the Portuguese nation 



LOSS BY THE EARTHQUAKE. 407 



from this grievous and unparalleled calamity was, 
indeed, enormous. Besides immense losses in the 
Royal Palace, the Custom-house, the Theatre, the fac- 
tories and stores, and thousands of private houses, a 
prodigious treasure was missing in church -jewels, 
ornaments, precious marbles, sacred vessels and 
plate, statues and paintings, candelabra, and other 
costly objects and rarities. The crown lost, in dia- 
monds only,4, 000,000/.; in other diamonds, precious 
stones, and jewels, another 4,000,000/. had vanished. 
Reckoning the vast losses sustained by foreigners 
in this great disaster, as well as those borne by the 
natives of the country, the sum total is asserted 
to have been 536,360,000/. 

The English nation nobly exerted itself in order 
to afford some assistance to the beggared and fam- 
ished victims of this terrible calamity. King George 
the Second, on the receipt of the mournfully -eventful 
intelligence, immediately sent a message to Parlia- 
ment, which was sitting at the time, recommending 
that some liberal succour should be, without loss of 
time, forwarded to alleviate the piteous distress of 
the unfortunate outcasts. Generous British hearts 
instantaneously and eagerly responded to their 
sovereign's kindly sentiments, and right heartily 
entered into his charitable views ; and, ere long, 
a princely sum was munificently voted out of the 
public purse for this philanthropic object ; with 
all imaginable celerity it was transmitted to the 
melancholy scene of the catastrophe, part being in 
goods, and part in money, accompanied by a large 
variety of needful stores, and abundance of food. 
I know not whether other countries followed the 
example so nobly set by the British Isles. 

It was the Marquis de Pombal who recon- 



408 



RESTORATION OF THE CITY. 



structed the prostrate and shattered city. For- 
tunately, the flourishing state of the finances of the 
country, which were indebted for that brilliant 
prosperity to the enormous sums that annually 
poured in from the opulent colonies in the East, 
and from the teeming mines of the Brazils, em- 
powered the citizens and government rapidly to 
contribute towards the restoration of their once 
splendid capital. Not only was the metropolis 
rebuilt — it was magnificently embellished. 

The minister seized the favourable opportunity 
of substituting, in place of some streets of remark- 
able irregularity and particularly mean and squalid 
appearance, and in lieu of houses of very inconsi- 
derable architectural merits, highly symmetrical rows 
of buildings, lofty and well-proportioned, with com- 
paratively broad and smooth thoroughfares (for in 
those days the streets were usually inconveniently 
small and cramped); some boasting regular side- 
footpaths, and all methodically and carefully laid out. 
These gratifying and desirable ameliorations were 
more especially observable in the middle of the city, 
where the streets had generally been confined, 
devious, and narrow, and the houses most unsym- 
metrically built, and jumbled together without taste 
or skill. Had all Pombal's works been like this, he 
would have been, in truth, a benefactor to his 
country, and an example to men in public stations, 
but widely different were most of the other actions 
of his ruthless and reprehensible career ! Lisbon 
sprung from her ashes, beautified, strengthened, 
and improved, in a wonderfully brief space of time. 
Monasteries, churches, convents, palaces, mansions, 
factories — not forgetting prisons, be sure, under the 
Marquis de Pombal's sway, — rose on every side. 



LIMA ARCHITECTURE. 



409 



One tiling only strikes one, perhaps, as slightly 
inconsiderate — if, as all experience proves, the more 
fragile the honse the better the chances of escaping 
from the effects of such fearful judgments as once 
destroyed the Lusitanian metropolis — to build such 
solid, massive, substantial mansions, was imprudent, 
surely. Lima is knowing on the subject of down- 
toppling walls, and could give them a wrinkle ; 
Lima runs up her palaces, and temples, and col- 
leges of puff-paste and whipped cream, or some 
such slight, light, frothy material. You will see on 
one side, mayhap, a mighty building, which you 
might find on examination to be a filmy fortifica- 
tion of crepe lisse, with battlements of bobbin- 
net; on another, possibly, a parliament-house of 
sprigged muslin, or a theatre of butterflies'-wings, 
or an apothecary's hall of blotting paper (not such 
a bad thing, if it blotted out all the prescriptions) ; 
or flimsy barracks of vast and extensive band-boxes, 
and prisons of papier-mache ; and pleasant villas eke, 
I ween, of spiders' webs, and, alas ! belike, strict, 
solemn convents of sadly transparent gauze, — or, at 
any rate, they are all composed of something that 
looks as airy and pretty, and is not really much 
more massive. And she contrives to make them 
have an uncommonly handsome effect, too ; for her 
architects and masons are top-sawyers, I suppose, 
at earthquakes, or earthquake-proof structures, as 
the citizens of some of her sister southern re- 
publics are at insurrections. After all, these dia- 
phonous dwelling-houses and aerial edifices of the 
capital of Peru may be excellent devices to cheat 
an earthquake of its prey; but I should think 
they were exposed to the danger, sometimes, of 
being blown away bodily, if a strong wind arose ; 



410 



SUBSEQUENT SHOCKS. 



and so a city of balloons might be seen streaming 
away over the Pacific by the inhabitants of the 
Sandwich Islands on some wild breezy morn. If 
Lima is right, Lisbon is wrong; and her solidity 
and substantiality may yet prove her rain. But 
one must not anticipate misfortunes ; although, I 
believe, shocks have been repeatedly felt since the 
earthquake. 

I think it is in the " Diary of an Invalid " that 
it is remarked, that Lisbon looks so like a place 
that is, every now and then, called upon in a quiet, 
familiar way, by earthquakes " dropping in," — a 
little too literally, — that, instead of wondering that 
it was once visited by such a calamity, it would be 
far more natural to look on cc its daily preservation 
as a standing miracle." 



LITERARY CELEBRITIES. 



411 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

I have already mentioned several of the literary 
celebrities to which this country has given birth — 
but I will add to the list a few not previously 
alluded to. Some of them, one should think, must 
have been interesting and original in themselves, 
whatever their productions may have been. There 
is Francisco de Macedo, for example, born in 1596, 
distinguished vastly as a philosopher, historian, ca- 
suist, linguist, poet, theologian, and orator ; he is 
said to have spoken twenty-two languages. Charles 
the Fifth (who said a man who knew five languages 
was worth five men) would, perhaps, have rated him 
as twenty-two men — quite a little regiment in him- 
self, if not a host. 

Among his numerous writings are particularly 
mentioned one hundred and twenty-three eulogies • 
of course, we opine, no flattery could find a place in 
the distinguished philosopher s discourses : then, by 
what perfections must he have been surrounded ! he 
could hardly write eulogies fast enough to supply 
the demand on his admiration and homage. 

Why did we not all live in those exemplary 
days of Virtue and Francisco de Macedo ? We 
might all have been excellent, too, — certainly all 
have been eulogised • alas ! our loss it is, not his ! 
Subjects for his disinterested panegyrics lacked not. 



412 



FRANCISCO DE MACEDO. 



I wonder what they gave hirn per page, or per 
line ? — perhaps according to the quantity and qua- 
lity of encomium supplied. Very strong laudations, 
all in capitals and superlatives, would come dear, 
probably; drawn rather milder, comparative and 
only italics, moderate; common sort of commenda- 
tion, by the peck — or pack — of stuff, very rea- 
sonable indeed ; and as to epitaphs, of which he 
wrote numbers (dull work, but, of course, the pane- 
gyric style again), they must have been mighty 
cheap, truly — for he might have made them from 
used-up eulogies — or, perhaps, by just putting the 
past tense for the present one. As to epigrams, 
epistles dedicatory, criticisms, and annotations, and 
such small fry, they were as plentiful as sour black- 
berries. He wrote plays, too, and to solace him- 
self for those dismal epitaphs, — pantomime ! — 
though I confess I don't rightly understand how 
pantomime is written — but, however it is done, 
he succeeded in it, it appears ; for an individual 
among his admirers (probably a subject of one 
of the " eulogies," who thought he would return 
the compliments, or one of them, at any rate) 
said, " In his theatrical pieces he pleased the deaf 
as well as the blind." This great epitaph, eulogy, 
play, poem, history, sermon, and pantomime writer, 
"maintained" at Venice, on a certain day, before 
the preacher of St. Mark, and the nobles and sena- 
tors of that famous city, a thesis upon every subject ! 
— and, what is more, to the satisfaction of every- 
body. Doctors and masters of all the orders ques- 
tioned and cross-examined him, on all possible 
and impossible propositions, with innumerable in- 
terrogatories and arguments, and he answered them 
all, to their entire contentment — perhaps even 



RAPHAEL BLUTEAU. 



413 



posing them, and prosing, to a surfeit of satis- 
faction. I strongly suspect he had been at his " Eu- 
logies" again at Venice, and thus they all agreed 
that his thesis " de omnibus rebus et quibusdam 
aliis" was perfect and unanswerable ; of course ; — 
for had he not told them all individually, in sounding 
periods, that they themselves were perfect and unde- 
niable ? At Rome, he had honours heaped upon him 
(eulogies again, doubtless, were showered about — 
from the Pope to the porter), — Professor of Pole- 
mical Divinity in the Propaganda College, and of 
Ecclesiastical History in another, and at length 
Censor of the Holy Office. What the last may be I 
know not. But really he seems to have nattered and 
wheedled Death himself ; for he lived on till eighty- 
eight, according to some writers, and eighty-five 
according to others — a pretty good old age, consi- 
dering all the hard work and works he had got 
through in his life. 

Another singular author was a priest, called 
Raphael Bluteau. France, I believe, disputed with 
Portugal the honour of giving birth to this dis- 
tinguished writer. He was chiefly known as a 
lexicographer, as he published a Latin and Portu- 
guese dictionary, in eight alarmingly thick quarto 
volumes. His introduction to the work has a spice 
of originality in it ; for, says he, "It is clearly 
absurd to give only one preface to a book, as though 
you had only one set of readers to deal with ; the 
thing is preposterous, nonsensical ! I must put all 
this* to rights in the twinkling of a bed-post or, 
if he didn't say that, he meant it. And so he libe- 
rally threw in no less than ten prefaces in addition 
to the matter of his eight quarto volumes, respec- 
tively addressed to the malevolent reader ; the bene- 



414 



AN IMPOSING TITLE. 



volent reader ; the Portuguese reader ; the foreign 
reader (I wonder if he ever had any) ; the learned 
reader ; the ignoramus of a reader ; the undiscri- 
minating reader ; the impertinent reader ; the futile 
and unpleasant reader (who might think him, perad- 
venture, an unpleasant writer) ; and the impatient 
reader. (Merciful powers ! Father Raphael Bluteau, 
how came you to think of such a thing for a 
moment? — "impatient," sir ! reading your book!) 
A commonplace kind of individual, distinguished 
by no peculiar characteristics, might have been 
allowed the advantage, belike, of perusing — of de- 
vouring all the ten. Now, I cannot but feel a 
little — a very little — curious to know if these ten 
prefaces were ever of any use in the world; I 
marvel, in short, if he ever had ten readers. But 
let us just peruse the title to his book (not a word 
more, I promise you and myself). 

If brevity 's the soul of wit, 
There 's no soul iu the wit of it ; 
For that it has wit, who can doubt, 
If we'd the wit to find it out ? 

But here it is ; let it speak for itself. On second 
thoughts, I see it is not meant to be witty at all, 
but is writ in sober sadness. 

" Vocabulaire i Aulique, Architectonique, Bel- 
lique, Brasilique, Comique, Chiinique, Dogmatique, 
Dendrologique, Ecclesiastique, Economique, Elori- 
ferique, Eructiferique, Geographique, Gnomonique, 
Homonimique, Hieroglogique, Ictyologique, Isago- 
gique, Laconique (that I take leave to doubt), 
Lithoiogique, Meteorologique, Neoterique, Ortho- 
graphique, Ornithologique, Poetique, Philologique, 
Quidditativique, Rustique, Symbolique, Syllabique, 



AUTHORS AND WORKS. 



415 



Theologique, Terapeutique, Technologique, Urano- 
logique, Zenophonique, Zoologique." 

Another author of some fame of yore, in Lusi- 
tanian literary circles, was Dom Francisco Manuel 
de Mello. This wielder of the pen was also a 
wielder of the sword, for he held for many years a 
high rank in the army of Portugal. Without in- 
diting a handsome allowance of ten prefaces to each 
of his productions, he courted observation by in- 
dulging in a love of odd titles. That this was the 
line he took, the following specimens will perhaps 
prove — "Moral Dialogues of Speaking Watches" 
(of course, the object w T as to show the value of time, 
and, had there been such beings in his day, not 
inappropriately might he have dedicated these hints 
of Speaking Watches to railway directors and super- 
intendents) ; " The Avaricious Counting-House 
"The Fair of Punsters;" "The Busy-Body, a 
Farce" — we have heard of such a one as that, too, 
in England; — "The Impossible, a Tragedy" (not a 
bad name, for we all know how many impossible 
tragedies are acted — and approved of) ; " Advice to 
Married People " (which cannot by any possibility 
be as good as "Punch's" excellent "Counsel to 
those about to marry — Don't!"); "Manifestoes on 
Royal Assassinations ;" and " Apologies for Idle- 
ness," which surely were unnecessary, if he spoke 
for himself, for he wrote about sixty works in the 
midst of his many military duties. 

Augustin Barbosa was another learned author. 
A very poor Grub Street author indeed was he ; and 
his position need not have been envied by any 
street-sweeper in good business, certainly ; for 
only once in every twenty-four hours could he 



416 



COLOMBA THE FAIR. 



afford a meal ; and what sort of a meal it was, we 
may guess. 

King Denis was a prose writer and a poet ; he 
wrote some song-books, which are preserved only in 
ancient MS. (cancioneiros). His son, Alfonso, was 
likewise said to dabble a little in the streams of Cas- 
taly; as also Peter, the husband of the unhappy Inez 
de Castro, and son of Alfonso. Antonio Ferreira was 
often termed the Portuguese Horace. He manu- 
factured sonnets and odes with grace and skill. One 
of his productions is a pleasant tale of a national 
saint, with the pretty dove-like name, Colomba; 
the damsel, being exposed to the pertinacious court- 
ship of a Saracen king whom she particularly dis- 
liked, absented herself without leave, and, having 
wandered far, was seized with fear and dismay, still 
dreading, above all, to see her hated persecutor ap- 
pear. Colomba the fair, in her distress, with a 
pretty grief that might melt the heart of a stone — 
and did — called upon a rugged-looking rock that 
happened to be near, to afford her hospitality and 
protection ; which rugged rock immediately affec- 
tionately opened his amiable granite arms, and the 
gentle fair one disappeared; while a murmuring 
fountain sprang forth on the spot where her tears 
had fallen, and her feet trodden, said to possess 
some miraculous properties, — not so uDlikely, con- 
sidering that the circumstances were a little mi- 
raculous altogether, perhaps. The Saracen, I sup- 
pose was, in retributory fashion, roasted, fried, 
broiled, boiled, or par-boiled. Colomba seemed to 
have abominated that amorous heathen so greatly, 
that one might almost suspect he had sat for the 
original portrait of the celebrated Saracen's head, 



WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK, ETC. 417 

and been remarkably like that masterly sketch into 
the bargain. 

If our conjectures are right as to an authentic 
likeness of the aforesaid gentleman, it cannot be 
said, in Shakspearian language, that <£ he died and 
made no sign." 

Gil Vicente wrote spiritual dramas, which 
were denominated, in the language of the day, 
" Autos ;" pleasanter autos, we should hope, than 
those which were manufactured out of heretics, 
fagots, a good brisk fire, and a ha'porth of resin 
and pitch. He is said in some of his pieces to 
have introduced a melee, which may be likened 
to nothing earthly or unearthly but a Coalition 
Ministry. Here is a sample of his Happy Family, 
all introduced on the stage at one and the same 
time : — the Church of Rome impersonated (how, 
I know not) ; Mercury, the god of thieves • the 
very elderly gentleman whom Cornelius Agrippa, 
according to a late author, personified by that empty 
purse we have already alluded to — in short, the 
Deuce ; and Time and a seraph ; — the medley, my- 
thological, ecclesiastical, celestial, and stygian, is a 
curious mixture altogether, manufactured by the ima- 
ginative Gil. But enough of these old Portuguese 
authors ; none of those worthies — not even King 
Denis himself, could well have concocted abetter 
epistle than the' one that Dom John the Fourth sent 
to Philip the Fourth of Spain, who, on hearing the 
former had been crowned King of Portugal, thus 
dispossessing his Spanish Majesty of the Lusitanian 
throne, had addressed to him a remonstrance, 
couched in somewhat haughty terms, telling him 
he had heard some very odd news, which he could 
not believe, and recommending him not to hazard 

E E 



418 



ELEGANT EPISTLES. 



the loss of the esteem he had for him, by heading 
a " mutinous rabble advising him " so to com- 
port himself, that his person may escape danger" — 
apparently delicately alluding to hanging — and 
beginning " Cousin and Duke," and ending, " Your 
Cousin and King." 

John's reply was thus : — 

" My kingdom, wishing to have its natural king, 
and my subjects being oppressed with taxes and im- 
positions" [a knack most subjects have], " have done 
what they long designed and desired to do — given 
me what belongs to me. Wherefore, if any go 
about to take the same from me, I shall seek justice 
in arms. 

" Dom John the Fourth, 

"KING OF PORTUGAL." 

These two documents are a little like the Hiber- 
nian belligerent billets-doux of old, between two 
kings, or chiefs, who had " the laste taste in life of 
a death-quarrel." 

" Pay me what you owe me, or else 

" O'Donnell." 

" I owe you nothing ; and if I did 

" O'Neil." 

Sancho the Second might not be so famous as 
some of his brother kings, either in the matter of 
epistolary correspondence or poetical lucubrations ; 
but he was a celebrated beauty. How enchanting 
and irresistible this lady-killer must have been, we 
may form only a faint idea from the brief descrip- 
tion of one of his chroniclers, in which his very 
great personal attractions are enumerated, and 



A CLEVER TRICK. 



419 



where prominently figure — indeed, they are evi- 
dently the crowning charms — " Green eyes and a 
long nose ! " Green eyes were admired in those days 
in Portugal, and, it seems, a lengthy nose also. 

By some accounts I have met with, it would 
appear this royal Adonis often sat for his picture, 
and generally was depicted flourishing a sceptre, 
with a pigeon perched upon it ; but I fear the Royal 
Academicians of that date and land were not artists 
of a very imposing calibre, for the chronicler gravely 
adds, with an ingenuous distrust of their powers 
of representation, and haply of his own discrimi- 
nation, or modestly feeling himself no judge — 
nobody — pas meme Academicien, "or it might be a 
stork." " Very like a whale," another might think, 
perhaps. Sancho's queen was also celebrated for 
her charms. Whether the beautiful " green-eyed 
monster " was jealous of her, I know not, but he 
would have looked the character to perfection. 

His successor, Alfonzo the Third, who was sur- 
named the Bolognese, took the title of Regent on 
his deposition ; but on his brother's decease was 
saluted king. He had some difficulty in forcing 
divers of the fortified towns to acknowledge his 
dominion. At the siege of Bebado a singular 
incident is related; the garrison were almost on 
the point of starvation, when one day a bird of 
prey let fall a fine trout, which it had success- 
fully fished out of the Mondego, into the town. 
Immediately the astute Governor, Ferdinand Ro- 
driguez Pacheco, who had valorously defended 
Bebado, sent it with his respectful compliments, 
as a slight offering to the Regent ; on which the 
latter thinking, as Pacheco intended he should, 
that the garrison must be thoroughly well supplied, 



420 



PORTUGUESE MONARCH S. 



and living on the fat of the land — and water, 
raised the siege, and took his departure for Coim- 
bra, straightway. 

Alfonzo the Second was a noted beauty, and 
might, perhaps, have rivalled the fascinating 
Sancho. He was " immensely fat, with lively eyes, 
yellow hah', and generally handsome." A pity he 
had not green eyes, too • they would have con- 
trasted finely with the " yellow hair ! " 

Some of the earlier Portuguese monarchs, when 
neither lady-killers nor bards, were occasionally 
warriors on a very vast scale indeed ; for instance, 
Alfonzo the First (the first King of Portugal) over- 
threw "thirty kings, besides lesser potentates" — 
smaller fry innumerable. I think the courtly his- 
torian, somewhat dazzled by his mighty exploits, 
must have counted some of those poor vanquished 
sovereigns four or five t ; mes over. One of these 
soundly -beat en monarchs was Alfonzo the Seventh, 
of Castile. 

The long war that took place, marked with so 
much violence and fury, between Spain and Por- 
tugal, was, doubtless, the original source of that 
dislike and bitterness of feeling which has subsisted 
ever between the inhabitants of the different sec- 
tions of the Peninsula. The Portuguese say some- 
times of their neighbours, that of all abominable 
things, animate and inanimate, a Spaniard is the 
most abominable. 

The haughty Castilians are not backward in 
ridiculing and animadverting on the faults of the 
Portuguese, who, they say, contemptuously, are 
" Pocos y locos " — Pew, — and fools too. 

Before we have done with this " bald, disjointed 
talk," and irregular remarks on some of the Lusi- 



TIT FOR TAT, 



421 



tanian rulers, let us say a few words on Peter the 
Cruel; by some, surnamed Peter the Just. The 
latter distinguishing appellation was probably be- 
st owed upon him in consequence of several striking 
acts on his part, which displayed justice of a rather 
severe and ferocious nature. Perhaps among them 
may be classed the following : — He condemned a 
clerk of the Treasury to the gallows for receiving 
a bribe ; he beheaded a gentleman for staving a 
countryman's cask that was full ; and commanded 
that another should also suffer decapitation for 
pulling a poursuivant's beard, and striking him ; 
and he ordered that an offender should pay nine 
times over the price of some cups of silver which 
he had borrowed, and declined altogether to restore 
to their rightful owner. 

On another occasion, a church dignitary of high 
rank had taken umbrage at the slow or inefficient 
manner in which a poor mason had performed some 
work for him. The churchman's mode of procedure 
was not precisely calculated to make the wretched 
man work better or more busily, for he killed him 
on the spot. For this outrageous act, the court that 
was duly appointed to try persons of his office and 
station merely sentenced him to be suspended from 
saying mass for one year. Peter, who had avoided 
interfering in the matter till the sentence was re- 
corded, then sent for the son of the murdered mason, 
and gave him a few broad hints to take the law 
into his own hands, and to kill the priest. The son, 
shortly afterwards, put the ecclesiastic to death, in 
a manner as summary as that in which he had de- 
stroyed the unfortunate mason. The consequence 
of this rather serious tit for tat was, that he fell into 
the clutches of the law, and with remarkable celerity 



422 



RULERS AND THE RULED. 



was condemned to an ignominious death. Now, the 
sovereign's sanction was indispensably necessary 
before this sentence could be executed ; and, when 
the subject was brought before Pedro, he quietly 
asked by what trade the criminal got his livelihood. 
He was told the culprit's trade was the same as his 
father's had been. " Is it so ?" quoth Dom Pedro, 
as grave as a judge : " then I commute his sentence, 
and restrain him most positively from meddling 
with stones and mortar for a twelvemonth." 

Subsequently to this, he inflicted the punish- 
ment of death on the clergy when they committed 
capital crimes ; and, upon their petitioning him, 
and beseeching that he would be pleased to refer 
their causes to a superior tribunal, exclaimed, " It 
is the very thing I do ! — for I send them to the first 
of all tribunals — that of their Maker and mine." 
He cruelly ordered that a friar who had committed 
an offence against his order should be fastened in 
a cork-case and sawn in two. 

Notwithstanding these barbarities, this king 
was exceedingly liberal, and was so popular with 
the Portuguese, that, after his death, they said of 
him, " He should never have been born ; or he 
should never have died." They should have said 
the same thing of another of their kings, to judge 
by the sobriquet they gave him — "the Perfect." 
This was Dom John the Second, in whose career 
there is much to remind the English student of 
history of that of our Henry the Fifth. It was 
during his reign, that on the French restoring a 
captured vessel, called a " caravel " (the same spe- 
cies of ship as that which carried the illustrious 
Columbus to America), it was discovered a little 
parroquet was missing. The king claimed imme- 



SOVEREIGNS OF PORTUGAL. 



423 



diate restitution of this bird, and positively refused 
to set free some French vessels, that were in his 
power, till poor pretty Poll was produced, ceremo- 
niously liberated, and duly yielded up in solemn 
form to the Portuguese Government : " For," said 
he, "I would have them know the flag of Portugal 
shall protect even a parroquet I" 

The third John was called by his subjects " the 
Compassionate," but their sentiments would not, I 
opine, be endorsed by a great number of persons 
who were the victims of a popular institution in 
Roman Catholic countries of that day ; for his reign 
was particularly noted for the establishment of the 
Inquisition; it was also remarkable for a bitter per- 
secution of the Jews, A severe earthquake occurred 
during this reign at Lisbon. Sebastian's romantic 
history is too well known for me to say anything 
of it. 

After him came Henry, the Cardinal King ; and 
then Philip the Second of Spain ; and Philip the 
Third ; and Philip the Fourth ; and then John the 
Fourth (surnamed " the Restorer") — these were the 
heroes of the O'Neil and O'Donnell correspon- 
dence. It was the latter sovereign, I believe, who 
inscribed a work he wrote to a fiddler of fame in 
his day, one Rebello. After John the Fourth, Al- 
fonzo the Sixth, " the Victorious," wore the Por- 
tuguese crown. He was remarkable for his unpo- 
pularity with the clergy ; and, indeed, his subjects 
in general seem to have had but little love and 
reverence for him. 

If his lay-subjects, however, had as little to say 
against him in the way of complaint as his clerical 
ones, it would certainly seem this poor prince was 
" more sinned against than sinning for his eccle- 



424 



THE VAGARIES OF 



siastical censurers assuredly appeared to be very hard 
put to it to establish any charge against hirn; in 
demonstration of which may be cited the following, 
as specimens of the accusations they formally pro- 
nounced: — "That he had been guilty of laughing 
at the comets, calling them names, and firing off 
pistols at them." One should have thought that 
was the comets' affair, not theirs. It really 
seemed an innocent mode of killing time ; he could 
not well have killed the comets. As to the calling 
names and laughing, did he call them a posse 
comitatus ? It would have been such, certainly, if 
there were many of them. He might have desired 
their destruction — and the plenishing of his plane- 
tary game-bag; or meteoric meat-larder; but we 
all know how the respectable Mrs. Glasse, of culi- 
nary celebrity, lays it down as a law in cookery, 
and experience justifies us in thinking this law ap- 
plies to most other things, — even to less important 
concerns, — with perhaps almost equal force. " If 
you wish to cook a hare," she says, I believe, " first 
catch your hare." Well, then, if you want to give 
comets, of all fowls of the air, a basting, a roasting, 
or calling over the coals, you must first catch your 
comets ; at all events, if you desire to pop away at 
them, they must be there to be popped away at, 
or you will certainly do nothing more than fire 
your pistol in the air. Now, it does not seem that 
comets, even if comeatable, are such gregarious 
luminaries that they are to be seen, as the wording 
of the accusation would lead us to suppose, in 
dozens at a time. They might as well have gone a 
little farther, and said that the flippant prince 
pulled their tails. If "the Victorious" had no 
worse crime to weigh on his conscience than this 



A ROYAL ASTRONOMER. 



425 



love of a good day's — or night's — sport, — than 
this shooting, in short, of rather shy, high-flying, 
eccentric game, he must have been a good king. 
By the way, did he take astronomers for his 
pointers and setters, and almanac-makers for his 
retrievers ? 

After him came the second Peter (" the Pa- 
cific") ; then John the Fifth ; Joseph (in whose 
reign the frightful earthquake took place) ; and 
then Maria the First. 



426 BURIAL-PLACE OF FIELDING. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



There is a Protestant cemetery at Lisbon, and in 
that cemetery lie the remains of the celebrated Henry 
Fielding. For too long a period the last resting- 
place of this highly-distinguished man was allowed 
to remain without memorial or inscription ; but it 
has now both, a conspicuous monument having 
been reared above the spot where his ashes are en- 
tombed, and this monument being enriched with a 
Latin inscription ; but neither are worthy of the 
man to whom they are intended to do honour. 
Noble cypress- trees cast their melancholy and 
befitting shade on the sequestered walks of the 
cemetery. 

This burial-place was assigned to the British, 
as long ago as the year 1655, in fulfilment of 
the fourteenth article of the treaty concluded, dur- 
ing the protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, between 
England and Portugal. A Protestant chapel was 
built within the burial-ground, subsequently to the 
treaty of Vienna ; it is simple in construction, and 
without any remarkable feature. One cannot help 
wondering how churchyards, and funereal monu- 
ments fared, in general, during the dread dispen- 
sation of the great earthquake ; it must have had 
a ghastly and appalling effect indeed, if the dead 
were universally disturbed, and their peaceful 



LAWS RESPECTING INTERMENTS. 427 



sepulchres broken up, by the shock of those awful 
concussions. Doubtless many monuments reared 
to do honour to the departed must have been in- 
jured, if not destroyed, in the general wreck ; and 
the dim, grey Houses of the Silent must have been 
here and there shattered and defaced, as well as 
the happy Homes of the Living. Indeed, I appre- 
hend, it is a well-known fact, that in various places 
the mouldering remains of the Dead were exposed 
to view during Earth's heaving throes. 

In the Roman Catholic cemetery of the Height 
of Pleasures (Alto des Prazeres) are to be seen some 
fine monuments. The Duke of Palmella, some 
years since, bought a portion of the territory 
connected with this burial-ground, for the purpose 
of interring there the members of his family. At 
his expense large vaults, and an extensive mortuary 
chapel, have been built. Before the year 1833 the 
practice of burying in churches in the city was 
constantly followed in the capital, and throughout 
the whole of the kingdom, but it is now effectually 
put a stop to. A law was passed in that year 
positively forbidding any interments within the city 
for the future ; and this revolting and highly-repre- 
hensible custom is entirely discontinued. Setting- 
aside the sanitary view of the question, of such vast 
importance in itself, how much more soothing is it 
to the feelings of affectionate mourners, that the pre- 
cious remains of those they loved — those they still 
love — in place of resting amongst the seething 
haunts of men, should repose amidst the quiet beauty 
and freshness of Nature, with all her gracious ac- 
companiments of dews, and breezes, and leaves, and 
boughs, and blossoms, so pure and untainted, and 
shedding around such soft influences, and replete 



428 REFLECTIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 

with such inspiring associations ! It hardly seems 
consistent with what we love to talk of, — the 
peace and quiet of the tomb, to feel that the noisy 
omnibus, thundering heavily along, is jarring the 
cold remains in their last earthly dwelling-place; 
that, instead of the plaintive note of the sweet wild 
dove, or warbling nightingale, the cabman's oath, 
the newspaper-man's cry, are sounding over the 
mournful headstones. 

Then, when we think of Death, thus foully dis- 
honoured and thus desecrated, midst rank and steam- 
ing horrors, and with those grisly, ghastly abomina- 
tions contrasted by the most vulgar commonplaces 
of every-day life, it seems a laidley thing — the re- 
pulsive features of its aspect are what we dwell 
on ; — but when all Nature's loveliest enchantments 
surround the tomb, so exquisitely doth she connect 
it link by link with her beauty, her sublimity, her 
glory, and sweetness, that the moving star above 
the grave seems to be, as it were, a part of the 
grave ; or, rather, the dewy, flower-clad, smiling 
grave itself, seems a part of the pale, and mystic, 
and earth-severed star that watches above it : for 
it seems earth-severed also ! — sundered from this 
world, as if by all the burning company of worlds 
arrayed above ! — as if by all the dazzling bands of 
Angels and Archangels hovering anear where the 
Human melts off into the Immortal and Etherial 1 
Its mystic history is not of this murky globe ; 'tis 
inscribed in the blazing archives of the realms on 
high, for ever. It is the whole globe itself that is 
the grave, — the tomb is the opened door of Heaven. 
There is there a length, and a breadth, and a 
height, and a depth, that mock the puny propor- 
tions of our mortal sphere. Does it not lead forth 



REFLECTIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 429 

at once into the Illimitable ? Does Eternity not be- 
gin where that gray tomb looks calmly out on space ? 
Does Time not shrink back instinctively from the 
brink of that shallow pit which shall yet swallow up 
his sceptre-scythe at the last ? For when those he 
aided to lay low in the Dust throb and kindle back 
to life, he shall know he hath no more Past ! — he 
shall know he can have no more Future, and his 
little troubled, fleeting, shifting Present, shall melt 
off into the great steadfast Now, — the perfect self- 
containing, self-circling, immutable Now. He shall 
vanish before the awful face of Him who conquered 
for us the inheritance of Glory, whose feet rests on 
the vasty sun-blazing circle of Eternity. Death, 
too, he is a self-destroyer. Every blow he deals, 
wounds himself. Death and Time ! ye rule over 
the world, and the world's victors and masters. 
Your rod of Empire is outstretched over the flushed, 
breathing Lords of Life. Your bondsmen and 
vassals, they await your nod. Ye, the Giant-twain, 
clasp your shadowy hands in awful pact above 
their doomed, down-bent heads : the double-edged 
sword waves over them. They are your tributaries 
— the fearful tribute ye shall exact ; they owe it still 
— they must pay it — once — in full. Thou, Death ! 
thou seizest thy victims ; they are thine ; but thy 
keen, grappling gripe, hath at once crushed their 
clay-fetters, — the dread debt is paid, and at the self- 
same moment thy slaves and captives (victorious 
victims!) escape. Thou smitest them, and they are 
saved from thee ; thou fastenest thy long-threatened 
grasp on them — fully thou fastenest it, and they are 
free ! Death and Time ! ye rule over the yet un- 
stricken, in then frail license of continuance, and 
brief privilege of abiding, over Earth's still-existing 



430 



REFLECTIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 



Powers and Peoples. Ye reign, their silent Suzerains; 
ye hold dark dominion over them. The living, the 
living below, must endure your yoke. They bear 
the mark and impress of the broad arrow of either 
king ; they are claimed by ye : mighty monarchs ! 
they are yours. To ye they are subject ; and ser- 
vice and obedience must they render — fealty and 
homage. Behold the tremblers ! They are liable 
to your despot-fiats and edicts ; in forced allegiance 
they hang on your beck and bidding. Are they not 
caught and trailed along by the dusky, far-sweep- 
ing folds and hem of your kingly robes, and cloudy 
Purple, low in the wormy dust ? Your eclipse of 
shadow is over them. All-conquering Time, and 
thou grisly tyrant, Death, ye reign ! Where are 
ve illustriously challenged and o'ercome? Where 
are ye without might and strength ? In the grave 1 
even in their grave. There ye are powerless ! 
Between that and the eldest Heavens streams the 
changeless mystery of Eternity — the all-embracing 
Eternity itself. Yea ! even now, straight down to 
the grave, through all Worlds and Heavens, it 
stretches like a ray of uncreated light; and the 
worm may feast and revel : she hath verily but a 
little night to feast in. And ye, ye two-leagued 
Titans ! — ye are but as the stupendous, ever-waving 
Wings, rushing unceasingly onward, to bear this 
heaving orb and all its precious freight of inde- 
structible souls to the regions of endless beatitude, 
and of imperishable triumph, — to whirl it swiftly 
into the depths of that all-encircling Eternity. We 
speak of the Majesty of Death, — what is it but the 
Majesty of the Soul — that we know is then freed and 
delivered from the dark influences of Mortality — 
that we know is thus awfully stepping on the 



LINES ON THE WORM. 



431 



veiled threshold of the Great Beyond? We weep 
over the sepulchre ! yet what is the grave but the 
great horizon-line of all this visible Humanity, 
touching the Heaven, and the Heaven of Heavens ? 
and, with prophetic insight, ye can yet see from 
behind it arise in inextinguishable glory the Sun 
of the quickening morn of Immortality, that shall 
light our rejoicing March from Everlasting to Ever- 
lasting ! 

In the crowded city- churchyards far other 
thoughts intrude. What can you think of there, 
save the skull, the charnel, and — the worm ? The 
hard, cold, loathsome, dark realities of corruption 
seem forced on you. Death itself becomes blacker, 
sterner; less solemn, but more fearful; less im- 
pressive, but more despotic. Certainly, the bestowal 
of our dead in flower-enamelled and tree-over- 
shadowed burial-grounds is more consolatory to our 
feelings ; but better thai^ all was the plan of the 
ancients — consuming by purifying fire, and col- 
lecting the ashes in an urn. There corruption and 
the worm came not. 



THE WORM.* 
1. 

Thou grovelling horror ! thou most abject form ! 
Despised, yet dreaded, scorn'd, vet sovereign worm ; 
Thon silent, spiry, creeping, ghostly thing ! 
To thee the swift world bendeth on the wing : 

* Part of this was originally published by me, anony- 
mously, in " The Keepsake." 



432 



LINES ON THE WORM. 



For thee that world was made — to thee it goes, 
While thou remain'st in thy secure repose. 
Kings go to thee, and quail ; and there lay down 
The imperial sceptre and the jewell'd crown : 
Thou reignest queen, and all submit to thee — 
There seems no limit to thy sovereignty. 

2. 

No eagle can escape thee ; from the sun 

It drops into thy maw: its triumphs done, 

Its soarings check 'd, its hurrying raptures past, 

The prey-bird is thy helpless prey at last : 

The conqueror's wreaths thou'rt cunning to untwine, 

All hosts, all armaments, must yet be thine — 

The victors and the vanquished, all must yield : 

Yes ! thou remain'st true mistress of the field ; 

They fought, they raged, they struggled, and — they fell, 

Conquerors and conquer'd come with thee to dwell. 

3. 

In humble, lowly guise they come, the hand 
Unclenched from the awful baton of command, 
They blow no trump, they Boast no triumphs now, 
More than the banner — see, they veil the brow ! 
The hoarse cry " Victory" in their throats they check, 
They bring thy trophy — 'tis their own bleak wreck ! — 
For this they wrought, then ? toiled, and slaved, and dared 
All scathes, all shocks ; by no dire terrors scared ? 
Tush ! those they serve shall grasp the prize, — shall shine, 
Nay, the possessors, with the prize, are thine ! 

4. 

Present and past possessors, rivals, foes, 

And each proud meed they sought or snatched, even those 

They staked their souls on, fired with zeal insane 

Their living souls, — thine own. all thine remain. 

Men search the unfruitful waste — the old stormy brine, — 

Delve the rich soil, or probe the teeming mine — 

They wait on Science — seek with sleepless strife 

To count the fibres of man's inmost life, 

Of Nature's inmost and most hidden scheme — 

And still thine appanage their conquests seem. 



LINES ON THE WORM. 



5. 

A little while, 'tis true, a little while, 
Successive generations bless their toil — 
Deem they hold fast those spoils that melt away, 
Where can be no Continuance and no Stay. 
No ; 'tis most hopeless ! — Time and thee o'erpower 
All th' empty vanities of Life's brief hour. 
Strange vanities, — Say ! are not all things vain ? 
Since thy dread mark is on them — thy dull stain — 
Alike the car, the tribune, and the throne, 
See their proud occupants thy mastery own. 

6. 

Earth's haughtiest warriors, in their strongest fort, 
Shall yet become thy victims and thy sport ; 
Learning, for thee, leaves all its cherish'd stores, 
Its royal riches on the dust it pours. 
Avarice forsakes his hoards ; in jocund May 
The Bard may haply turn him from the spray 
Prankt' with new-franchised leaves, or from the dell 
Where the rathe violets in their sweetness dwell, 
To go to thee ! — foul, loathsome thing — to thee, — 
Shall the ice-chill coil wind found Eternity ? 

7. 

Proud Beauty (though the crowning rose, that threw 
New light o'er summer, near it pallid grew,) 
Beauty, lays down all — all her sumptuous arms, 
And yields the lustrous treasure of her charms, 
To thee for ever, thou unvanquish'd worm, 
Heir of that universe thou dost deform! 
No rebels can disturb thy despot sway, 
No rivals lure thy cherish'd ones away : 
Yet, hail to thee ! at least, where'er thou art 
Shall never ache again the o'er-burthened heart ! — 

8. 

Then ne'er shall flow again the impassioned tear, 
To think the death-doomed should be made so dear, 
Where sways thy ghastly, ghostly presence, there 
Straight yields its blighting rule, Earth-withering Care 

F P 



434 



LINES ON THE WORM. 



Peace dwells with thee — Peace shrinks not, cowering hack 

From thy grim mansions, from thy slimy track ; 

She lavs her rose-tinged cheek in loving rest 

Near thee, sjhe pillows thee on her soft breast. 

No wars "are there — nay, wherefore should there be ? — 

Resistance and Defiance stop with thee ! — 

9. 

No War against the Worm ! — there all succumb, 

Patient and passive, — powerless, checked, and dumb, — 

Who dare besiege thy strongholds ? — those who dare 

Thy sway but spread — thy banquet but prepare, 

All helps thy Festival ! — When Empires see 

War's pomp and triumph, 'tis thy jubilee ! — 

Hark! sounds the charge, — fierce bursts the artillery's roar, 

Heroes in nations swell thy State, and store ! 

Success and Conquest even seek one dark Shrine, 

Dominion, Pride, Renown, one gaol — 'tis thine ! 

10. 

Perish the powers of Honour and of Arms, 
Before thy path, — sink Glory's glittering swarms ; 
Still, thy reign, too, shall end, pale Queen of Dust, 
This world of worms is not the Christian's trust : 
Destroy it ! — gnaw it to its granite core ! 
The undying spirit lives yet more and more ! 
Eternity flows through its every thought, 
Thy deeds shall be undone, thy works unwrought : 
Oh ! what a glorious world shall that yet be 
Which waits to rise from ruins, and from thee ! 

11. 

What wish can match it, and what dream can paint ? 
Even Hope and Expectation there wax faint ; 
Come ! wing'd Imagination ! fearless power, 
Soar in thy fiery freedom s raptured hour, 
Trace link by link, and light by light explore 
The electric chain of Life that ends no more : 
The immortal mansions greet, whose boundless blaze, 
For ever kindling, brightens on the gaze ; 
High Priestess of the Charnel, hence ! away ! 
Nought in that wondrous world can prove thy prey. 



LINES ON THE WORM. 



435 



12. 

Come ! wing'd Imaginations ! lift the soul 

Beyond where light may reach or systems roll ; 

Come ! rake the roomy Thought from space to space, 

Till all creation round its powers embrace : 

It cannot stretch so far, nor mount so high 

As that new field of man's great destiny — 

For him a fresh bright universe up-springs, 

On fire with Joy, ablaze with Crowns and Wings, 

Beyond this sphere, so dark with cloud and storm, 

Whose mightiest conqueror is its vilest worm ! 



436 



COMPLIMENTS TO BEGGARS. 



CHAPTER XX. 



The beggars here seem treated with much the same 
complimentary courtesy that is shown them in 
Mexico ; and I suppose I shall also find it so in 
Spain. The mendicants themselves do not always 
make a point of reciprocating this politeness, and 
are accused of abusing those who do not listen 
favourably to their importunities ; it is said by 
some to be from an old superstition, or falsely- 
imbibed notion respecting the sort of religious or 
sacred character of these beggars, that this exces- 
sive civility towards them springs. I believe often, 
if a beggar approaches a shop, whining, of course, 
where perhaps ten or a dozen customers are col- 
lected dawdling about (rather than making many 
purchases), and helping each other to dawdle about, 
and watching the whining beggar dawdle about, 
and looking at the master of the establishment 
dawdling about too, they will all raise their hats, as 
if instinctively, to the lazy, sturdy ragamuffin at the 
door, who, however, probably would like some- 
thing more solid than those courtesies. The heroes 
of the scrip care little for such amenities ; bows, 
and no reis, being in their beggarly estimation not 
half as pleasant as the vulgar dole of kicks and 
halfpence. 



PORTUGUESE COINS. 



437 



I remember that a lady, an intimate acquaint- 
ance of mine, who was short-sighted, used con- 
stantly, at one time, in London, to return the 
petitioning bows and scrapes of beggars with great 
courtesy and affability ; for, not distinguishing their 
features, and only observing the urbane salutation, 
she thought it was from some acquaintance, whom 
distance prevented her recognising ; in happy un- 
consciousness she would pass on, but occasionally, 
some other person in the carriage would inform 
her what she had done, and describe the very sour 
and disgusted looks of the disappointed mendicant 
(less used to such ceremonious observances than 
these Lisbon vagrants), who must have thought 
the lady was mocking him. 

It is not often you see a Portuguese give to the 
beggars, and how they live is matter of curiosity ; 
they generally very quietly and kindly dismiss them, 
in the established form, with the words, " Perdoa, 
irmao," and off goes the hat simultaneously, but 
the halfpence simultaneously remain peacefully in 
the pocket ! 

The reis, which they always reckon in here, are 
imaginary coins of wonderfully little worth. I have 
heard Spaniards remark, that this suits exactly 
the bombastical, boastful pomposity of the Por- 
tuguese character. The former assure you that 
in this country a man positively delights in com- 
placently telling you he gave so many thousand reis 
for his watch, summing up the mighty cost with 
vast unction and zest to a fraction ; or in startling 
you, if a stranger, by ostentatiously informing you 
his washing lately amounted to four thousand (which 
does surprise you— considerably) ; or in coolly ob- 
serving to you he has so many millions per annum, 



438 



MARKS OF ESTEEM. 



while you know that the high-sounding sum hardly 
keeps him in the very barest necessaries of life ; to 
wit, cigars and garlic • — but the Spaniards are very 
hard on their Lusitanian brethren. This species of 
self-deception is catching ; in fact, you begin to feel 
yourself a millionaire ; bills of five thousand, ten, 
twenty thousand reis, pour in upon you — you pay 
them without the slightest hesitation ; you seem 
to bave found Fortunatus' purse. A millionaire ? 
pshaw ! are you not more, — a billionaire ? 

I was glad to be informed that the peasantry in 
this country are merciful and kind to their animals ; 
if it is really so, it shows a good disposition, and a 
right tone of feeling. The villagers, they say, will 
often spare no expense within their means, if the 
poor beasts fall ill, to procure the attendance of 
cattle- doctors, and to buy them medicines ; though 
this is done in a spirit of benevolent disinterested- 
ness, they, of course, reap a reward for their kind 
conduct, as their animals are thus often saved to 
them, when otherwise they would perish, or become 
comparatively useless. The strongest possible testi- 
mony of affection and esteem a countryman can give 
to a dear friend is to say, that to be able to assist 
him he is ready to part with his beloved oxen. The 
peasants actually treat these animals on a footing of 
entire equality with themselves. The horrible noise 
their carts make, I find they consider keeps all evil 
spirits from both beasts and men. It is enough to 
take off all spirits altogether, I should think — for a 
more lachrymose, lamentable, hideous, woe-begone, 
ear-splitting, joy -killing, pulse -lowering, thought- 
scaring, brain-bewildering, sense -shocking, nerve- 
grinding, soul-harrowing, heart-piercing, dismaying, 
discordant sound cannot be well imagined ; you 



POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



439 



might think fifty couple of captives were chained 
to the triumphal cart-wheels, and all yelling and 
screeching in despair and distraction. 

If all one hears and reads is true (but this is 
not very likely), Lisbon is probably now at its 
maximum of cleanliness ; at any rate, it is extremely 
doubtful that it will ever become much more purified 
than at present, for I read lately, in a little account 
of Portugal, that not only do the natives feel great 
indifference with respect to bad airs and noxious 
effluvia, but that some of them positively like it, 
thinking the air would be very insipid without it ; 
and they declare that it is particularly good for the 
nerves ! and also that it is an excellent preventive 
against the plague, and various disorders. This is, 
indeed, a Moorish idea, and I must take leave to 
doubt its being entertained by any educated Portu- 
guese of the present day ; a century ago it perhaps 
might have existed. 

In former days, as I have before had occasion to 
remark, the inhabitants of this portion of the Iberian 
Peninsula were very mnch inclined to superstition, 
and even of late years many anecdotes illustrative 
of a tendency to that weakness have been circu- 
lated. Probably in the country such feelings and 
prejudices are less eradicated than in the large 
towns ; on Festival days, still, I understand, the 
people are accustomed to bring many votive offer- 
ings to their saints. These offerings are generally 
of a humble, homely, and domestic description — 
such as cloth, manufactured by their own indus- 
trious fingers, the ruddy spoils of their orchards, 
and poultry. With regard to the first, it must be re- 
membered that the Portuguese peasant is generally 
skilful in the use of the loom and distaff. They 



440 THE FOX, THE HEN, AND THE GEESE. 

will often undertake a pretty long journey on foot 
to visit the shrine of a popular saint on his festival- 
day ; and they usually make a social jaunt of it, 
going in parties of a dozen or so, accompanied very 
frequently by a musician. 

At times the simple, artless company is chatty 
and merry, but on some occasions an oppressive 
silence chills them, to which they have bound them- 
selves by a vow. The women and girls present a 
singular appearance on these little pilgrimages, for 
they walk with their throats encircled by bright 
and costly gold chains, and, perhaps, long dangling 
earrings depending to their shoulders, while their 
chaussure is nil ; for it is barefooted they trudge 
along to the shrine of their saint. They sometimes 
assemble at a cross, where a young child, deputed 
by the priests, attends, and is armed with a bowl 
or salver, usually formed of metal, but of other 
materials occasionally. The ceremony commonly 
proceeds thus curiously : — One of our friends, the 
stranger pedestrians, exhibits a fine fowl, perchance, 
and exclaims, " Now ! Who'll buy ? — who'll buy ? 
Who'll buy, I say, this fine fat hen of San Fran- 
cisco?" (if it is his festival,) or " of Nossa Sen- 
hora?" (if it is that of the Blessed Virgin). " Here ! 
make haste, for Nossa Senhora is very desirous of 
disposing of this fowl. Who '11 buy this capital 
fowl of Nossa Senhora ?" It is generally soon that 
a suitable price is offered, and being paid down in 
hard cash, and counted, not into the owner's palm, 
but into the priest's salver, the same fat hen, by a 
peculiar arrangement, is again offered for sale, by 
San Francisco's agent, the sum produced is again 
ecclesiastically appropriated, and thus the sale con- 
tinues till the fowl has been bought and sold not 



A REMARKABLE EVENT. 



441 



a few times — and others besides the fowl are sold 
too, perhaps, and may mentally remark that " Saints 
are kittle cattle to shoe." The end of the affair 
usually is, that the "fine fat hen" is served up for 
his reverence's repast, who devours it out of pure 
compliment to San Francisco, down to the very 
parson's nose, and has a merrythought of his own, 
in addition to the fowl's, at the expense of the 
honest peasants, who have paid the piper. There 
are sometimes really quite considerable sums given 
at these mock sales by the very good, or the very 
bad — which latter are anxious to win favour from 
Nossa Senhora, or their sainted patron or pa- 
troness, in this manner, and hope that their pecca- 
dilloes will be overlooked, in consideration of their 
ultra-liberality. These sums, of course, are given 
by wealthier devotees. 

Mrs. Baillie related in an amusing book, some 
years since, a circumstance that took place while 
she was at Lisbon, which strongly demonstrates 
how deep-rooted were the superstitious notions of 
bigotry and ignorance in the minds of the people 
of Portugal. Much of this exists still. 

A peasant lad was chasing a rabbit in a field not 
many miles from the city : this rabbit, after running 
some time, crept into a hole for refuge, pursued closely 
by the dog. As the latter did not again make his 
appearance, the boy resolved to enter the aperture 
after him, and ascertain the cause of his remaining 
within. Accordingly, with some difficulty, he groped 
his way through the small low entrance, and found 
himself, very much to his surprise, he said, in a 
kind of cavern, or hermitage, at the extreme end of 
which he beheld an image of the Madonna. 

Of course this wonderful discovery was soon 



442 



DEMENTED CATTLE. 



made public, and it was stated, that when the 
child first entered the cave he found both the 
rabbit and dog, cheek by jowl, upon their bended 
knees, in adoration of the miraculous image. 
Crowds of people, of all classes, hurried to the 
spot ; and countless miracles, it was affirmed, were 
wrought by the image, which was of very small 
dimensions, and was denominated, from the situa- 
tion in which it was discovered, " Nossa Senhora 
de Baracca" (our Lady of the Cave). 

Some clays after this surprising discovery the 
newly-found treasure vanished from the rocky 
shrine, and an eager search instantaneously com- 
menced. 

This strange Chevy Chase was a vain one. Now 
and then there was a view-holla, but this was gene- 
rally found to be a mistake, and all were at fault. 
A poor peasant at length accidentally rediscovered 
it (this second trouvaille was not by means of the 
coney and the cur), when he was ploughing in a 
neighbouring field. As he was pursuing his rural 
employment his oxen suddenly stood stock-still; 
they merely laughed at the goad, and turned a deaf 
ear to all his remonstrances : he was puzzled by 
their unwonted obstinacy. 

All at once they began dancing and twirling 
round and round a tree that stood there, like so 
many horned, and tailed, and hoofed Dervishes. 
The poor Portuguese Hodge was astounded; he 
rubbed his eyes ; he opened his mouth, and, pro- 
bably, then he scratched his head — but that is not 
recorded in history ; — in fact, he tried all the most 
approved methods of enlightening the human in- 
tellect — methods generally considered infallible by 
persons of his class. He could not understand it : 



POOR HODGE AT FAULT. 



443 



his oxen had always been highly respectable animals 
(steady enough to have been yoked with Pegasus, 
as in Retzsch's noble drawings). What could have 
happened to them ? They seemed demented. Had 
they been horses, now, they might have taken half 
a pint too much, for Portuguese horses are known 
to be wine-bibbers : but these sober oxen ! it was 
passing strange ! 4 

As the dew -lapped votaries of Terpsichore, 
with many a charming bellow, continued their pas 
de zephir, or whatever pas it was, the poor man 
chanced to cast his eyes on the tree they were 
capering round, on the light fantastic hoof, and 
he perceived the famous image dangling from one 
of the boughs, like a very curious kind of stone- 
fruit. Astonished at such a sudden and singular 
production of nature, he, perhaps involuntarily, 
glanced at the ground he had been assiduously 
ploughing, half-expecting he might see a superna- 
tural crop there too. Not a profane mythological 
crop like that which was the subject of some quaint 
outlined illustrations of an old legend — those that 
"the Doctor" tells us about, representing Cupid 
" sowing a field, and little heads springing out of 
the ground on all sides," some up to the nose or 
chin, some up to the neck, others to the plumy 
shoulders, and some with the arms out. " If the 
crops were examined," continues our dear Doctor, 
" I agree with Mr. Wordsworth, that poets would 
be found as thick as darnel in that corn." But such 
a growth as this, of little winged dandiprats, the 
ploughman could not have anticipated for an in- 
stant. Of crops of Cupids our unlettered Hodge 
knew nought ; — (though a whole harvest of them 
might be ripe and golden, and waving in his heart 



444 



A WICKED WAG. 



at the moment). It is possible, indeed, he might 
have entertained a faint, shadowy notion, that 
peradventure a crop of young cherubims might 
have sprung up there — those little kit-kat celes- 
tials : however, that idea was a vain one, and he 
returned to the contemplation of the wondrous 
figure on the tree. When he had first recognised 
it, his oxen, the self-taught, eighty -stone -weight, 
bucolic ballet-dancers, like the little bunny and 
the sagacious bow-wow, had, after a few more 
rapid waltzing turns, dropt on their knees, — and 
there they remained. 

It may naturally be anticipated that all Lisbon 
hurried to pay homage to this wonderful image. 
It was soon nearly buried in splendid vestments and 
gifts of all sorts, among which figured a crown en- 
riched with precious brilliants, and there were 
almost miles of gold chain conspicuous among the 
costly presents. The Queen went to the spot in 
state, with a grand procession, and made an offering 
of a fine lamp of silver. 

For some time, the consecrated field resembled 
a vast fair, where long strings of carriages might be 
seen, and dense throngs of the citizens and country 
people, generally crammed and crowded together 
on their knees, either at or near the mouth of the 
far-famed grotto, which was somewhat difficult of 
access, people being obliged to creep in at the 
narrow entrance on their hands and knees. Whe- 
ther the royal party had to crawl in on " all-fours " 
I know not, but I suppose so. The priests and 
friars declared that an exquisite fragrance was 
perpetually streaming from the figure; and the 
numerous visitors were wont to exclaim, as they 
scrambled up on their feet again inside the cave, 



WITCHCRAFT AND ITS CURE. 



445 



" What a delicious odour ! what a matchless per- 
fume ! " 

It was whispered by some audacious person 
who entered the mysterious recess, that the rankest 
fumes of garlic and oil were particularly powerful 
in its atmosphere, and unquestionably actually pre- 
dominated there. The smell — a very common 
one in Portugal — being confined by the close air 
of the grotto, gained greater force ; an " exquisite 
fragrance," though by no means a miraculously- 
strange manifestation, this would assuredly seem 
in the nostrils of the good, next to the odour of 
sanctity itself. But they laboured under a trifling 
misapprehension when they protested that it flowed 
from the recently- discovered image. 

A book was published by authority, containing 
ecclesiastical accounts of the miracles performed by 
the figure. Among other visitors to the cave was 
a flippant wag, who fastened an artificial hump to 
his shoulders, and went in thus burthened to the 
celebrated grotto. He got rid of his high-hoisted 
bustle by some skilful legerdemain, and pretended 
to leave the cave " the deformed transformed/' 
This affair was nuts to the good fathers ; and it was 
circulated and celebrated accordingly. But the 
individual who had operated on his unsightly 
hump, without any necessity for chloroform — had 
such then existed, — and popped it into his pocket 
so quickly, and who was thus cured of what never 
existed, thoughtlessly boasted of the practical joke 
he had played, and the truth came out. The 
populace, infuriated, sought to tear the poor 
wretch to pieces ; but he was saved from the 
danger by being lodged in the public prison. The 
image was finally removed by water from her 



446 



BURIAL DUES. 



" Baracca " to the metropolis, where a splendid 
retinue of priests and a guard of honour awaited 
her coming. She was then carried in a grand 
procession, followed by vast crowds of worshippers, 
to one of the churches of the capital, there to take 
up her abode. 

At one time, amulets and charms were in very 
common use in this country (and doubtless are 
still, in numerous places), many of which were 
carried on the person, as a preservative from the 
evil eye, of which the Portuguese have a great 
dread. They have also other methods of defend- 
ing themselves against supernatural perils of differ- 
ent kinds. One resource is this, when they en- 
counter accidentally an old woman who has been 
suspected of being a witch, they crook up all the 
fingers of the right hand, one over the other, in a 
particular manner, as you do in making a flight of 
pigeons to amuse a child, and turn them carefully 
towards her as they pass her : this done, the witch 
cannot hurt them. Breastpins, brooches, lockets, 
rings, agraffes, and other trinkets, are often 
fashioned in the form of two hands clasped toge- 
ther. These joined hands form another charm 
against sorcery, and are in high favour ; they are 
called " figas." Preservatives against the evil eye 
are also fastened on to animals. A singular cus- 
tom used to prevail here of old, which, it is 
possible, has died gradually off in these days of 
improvement ; but this I have not ascertained. 
This custom is as follows : — When the holy oil is 
carried to a sick person the street-door is throwr 
wide open, and every one that chooses may intrude 
into the house. Children and mendicants often fine, 
their way into the very apartment where the dying 



CURIOUS FUNERAL CUSTOMS. 



447 



sufferer is stretched, and there they are permitted to 
stare upon the agonies of the expiring man, and the 
sorrows of the afflicted family. 

When indigent parents cannot afford to pay the 
expenses of an infant's funeral, the little corpse is 
generally carried to the Cathedral Church of Lisbon, 
and deposited on the steps, or on some monument, 
to be buried at the priest's leisure. Formerly the 
nuns used to decorate the little bodies of children 
thus exposed, but there are not many left now of 
those meek sisterhoods. However, some charitable 
person usually undertakes the office, and covers the 
innocent, unconscious clay, with all the fine trap- 
pings that he or she can scrape together ; while the 
early death of the poor babes is looked upon as an 
especial favour from heaven, (who, indeed, can 
doubt that?) and it is kept as a sacred festival 
by their parents. When the chill, wax-like form is 
thus habited, and made ready for the tomb, how- 
ever, the padres will generally wait for some pre- 
payment, and occasionally the little body is to be 
seen — or was formerly — lying on its back in the 
open street, publicly exhibited to excite compas- 
sion, with a small plate or pan attached to the life- 
less heart, in order to receive any voluntary offerings 
and subscriptions that may flow in, so that the burial 
expenses may be duly defrayed. 



443 



ARRIVAL OP STEAMER. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



The steamer, which had been a little overdue, has 
arrived ; and I feel some regret in reflecting that my 
Lisbon days are thus numbered. I shall be quite 
sorry, too, to leave the charming Braganza Hotel, 
where, besides its many attractions, we have met 
with great civility and attention. 

Our hosts have an immense number of children, 
yet the house is not unpleasantly noisy. As I under- 
stand a fresh olive-branch sprouts forth annually, 
they bid fair to emulate that Shah of Persia who, 
when an ambassador (Sir Gore Ousely, I believe) 
asked him how many daughters he had, — after 
being informed his sons amounted to the not incon- 
siderable number of one hundred and fifty-four, — 
called to one of his principal slaves, and requested 
he would just step to his assistance. " How many 
daughters have I, Mustapha : eh ? " I do not know 
whether the old slave had to refer to a well- 
thumbed morocco memorandum-book, but, after a 
little deliberation, he replied, with due obeisances, 
or rather prostrations on his face, " King of Kings, 
your Majesty has exactly five hundred and sixty." 
I believe that was the precise number specified : 



NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTE. 449 



at any rate, it's right, I am sure, within a few 
hundreds. 

Before I take leave of Lisbon, I will devote 
some brief passing words to the inhabitants and 
their peculiarities. 

I have been informed lately, that not only do 
they actually like the horrible effluvia in too many of 
their streets, but detest and abhor perfumes — ex- 
cepting eau de Cologne — as well as the fragrance 
of many delicious flowers ; mignonnette they are 
said to abominate, and to think geraniums par- 
ticularly offensive. They may, perhaps, just tole- 
rate violets and roses ; but one may reasonably 
doubt it, for these are so different from those 
peculiar, charming heaps of impurity that they 
patronise, — their own especially-chosen bouquets de 
mille fleurs, which perform the same office in many 
of their streets, — and houses too, of course, through 
the open windows, — that pastilles do in our degene- 
rate drawing-rooms (where they correct any little 
trace of coal-smoke, &c.) ; and that take off the dis- 
agreeable remnants of any unpleasant odours, such 
as a chance puff of contaminating orange-blossom, 
or of noisome honeysuckle, or noxious heliotrope, 
from certain ill-advised nosegays, haply, or the 
odious remains of a little corrupt esprit de jasmin, 
t> T . patchouli, on some misguided foreign pocket- 
handkerchief. I cannot, however, say that this 
taste ever fell under my own observation ; and, 
perhaps, it may be slander on the gentle Lisbo- 
nians. If so, the tittle-tattlers who have thus ac- 
cused them will, and very deservedly, and meetly, 
be en mauvaise odeur with the traduced fair ones, 
(to whose shrine they brought anything but in- 
cense) and their moustached cavaliers. 

G G 



450 



LOVE OF JEWELLERY. 



However, there are such things as odd tastes 
on that subject. I remember once meeting an 
English lady who was extravagantly fond of the 
smell of — a pig-stye ! and thought it particularly 
fragrant (fact !) ; and years ago I recollect a maid 
of mine speaking, very naturally, in highly indig- 
nant terms, of the bad taste exhibited by a still- 
room-maid of her acquaintance in the house where 
we were. " Only to think !" she burst forth, " she 
likes the smell of a tallow-candle just put out and 
smoking ! There she was, a-snuffing and a-snuffing 
of it up, and, says she, ' Now that's as relishing as 
a well-done mutton-chop to me! It's beautiful, it 
is ; — real beautiful ! ' " The last is truly a favourite 
expression with all in her rank of life. Who has 
not heard them praise " beautiful" fried bacon, or 
" beautiful " beefsteak, or pickled walnut, or oyster- 
patties, or black -pudding, or pork sausage, or 
hot-buttered toast, or other lovely objects of that 
nature ? 

Occasionally the peasant-women are said to be 
the possessors of really costly jewels ; and Mrs. 
Baillie, I think it was, who mentioned in her work 
seeing the chamber-maid of an hotel go to mass 
with a fine pair of real diamond ear-rings ; and at 
some fair she observed a petty huckstress in a 
shabby booth, and probably with a still mc^ 
shabby cloak, standing behind her humble shop- 
board, not only adorned with a Brazilian chain of 
the very purest gold a few yards long, but also 
with splendid pendants hanging from her ears : so 
very lengthy were these (I mean the drops, not 
the ears), that, sweeping toward her shoulders, they 
almost knocked against her collar-bones whenever 
she turned her head. Our housemaid, Delphina, 



PORTUGUESE ARISTOCRACY. 



451 



certainly never made her appearance in diamonds 
— to dust the room, or clean up the fire-place, but, 
for all that, she may have possessed them, reserved 
for high days and holidays. By the way, we used 
to hear amusing conversations every now and then 
between her and my maid, each talking her own 
language, arguing, remonstrating, reasoning, con- 
fiding, scolding, and explaining, as if each perfectly 
understood the other, — in full tide of confabulation, 
in short, and meanwhile neither comprehended a 
sentence the other was uttering. 

The Portuguese ladies are accused of wearing, 
like the modern dames of Greece, immoderate quan- 
tities of false locks, some peculiarity in this climate 
causing the natural hair to fall off in great quanti- 
ties in the hotter seasons. 

The high, ancient nobility of Portugal, are said 
not to be numerous. The titled noblesse consists of 
about sixty-five families, a few of which are of ducal 
rank. Gentlemen who are destitute of any title 
are denominated " Fidalgoes," which term corre- 
sponds with the Spanish hidalgo, that signifies, in 
literal interpretation, " the son of somebody. " 
However, there is a slight distinction between the 
two ; for, in Spain, the hidalgoes have a right to the 
prefix of Don to their name, and, in Portugal, this 
mark of honour exclusively appertains to the nobi- 
lity, and the mere fidalgoes are not allowed to 
assume it, at least not without a formal and ex- 
press permission from the sovereign. The latter 
confers titles of honour at pleasure • generally the 
same title and distinction are perpetuated in a 
family ; yet it is, I believe, as an added and conceded 
favour, and not as a positive right, that this trans- 
mission takes place. 



452 



NATIONAL COURTESIES. 



The Portuguese aristocracy are usually obliged 
to live in an exceedingly expensive style, that is, 
as compared with their incomes, for considerable 
fortunes are very scarce in impoverished Portugal ; 
partly, no doubt, owing to their being continually 
diminished by this very cause. In old times (but 
probably this is no longer the case) the king was 
compelled to pension a vast number of the members 
of high-born families, to enable them to keep up 
the appearance required by their position. Besides 
other expensive luxuries, they were expected, and 
are still, I fancy, to maintain an array, — almost 
an army of servants in some instances, dispropor- 
tionately large to their means. Of course their 
real comforts are in an inverse ratio to these osten- 
tatious displays and extravagancies. 

Prom what I hear, the nobility adopt the same 
pernicious fashion of intermarrying perpetually with 
members of their own limited order that is custo- 
mary in Spain ; however, I believe, not to the same 
extent ; and consequently the manifestations of the 
occasionally-prejudicial effects of this custom are 
not so unfavourably conspicuous. 

The costume of the humbler classes would be 
rather becoming than otherwise, if they were more 
cleanly and neat. Sometimes the men's cloaks 
have " a pair of sinecure sleeves," that dangle 
loosely like the same appendage in a hussar's 
jacket. In some parts of Portugal the women's 
cloaks are, or used formerly often to be, scarlet : 
those I have seen have appeared invariably either 
brown or black, or, maybe, invisible green ; the 
large folding capote (cape) is universal. 

Linen and the lower classes here are very 
slightly acquainted with each other. The cloak is 



MUSICAL TALENTS. 



453 



a kind of boundary mark, a sign of separation and 
distinction between them and the higher orders, 
the latter being frequently termed " homen de 
gravata lavada," and the former, "homen de 
capote" (a man with a washed cravat, and a man 
with a cloak). 

I have already spoken of the extreme courtesy 
exhibited by a host to his guests in this country, 
but in past times it was carried to a yet greater 
extent ; for, I am assured, the master of the house 
not only did not take his place at the head of his 
table, but did not even sit down, during the enter- 
tainment; he either stood, or walked backwards and 
forwards, all the time behind his guests' chairs, 
particularly recommending various dishes to them, 
and pressing them to taste every one of the good 
things spread before them, ever repeating the set 
phrase, that his house and all in it were quite at 
their disposal. Besides this, upon any special occa- 
sion, the host, dressed in his best court-suit, acted 
the head -waiter himself to his guests, running for 
" plates and steaks/' like his brethren of the white 
choker and napkin, and the racer in the riddle. It 
is asserted that, even in these days, if the butler or 
footman is at all slow or remiss, the host jumps up 
in a twinkling, and is at your elbow to change your 
plate, present you with the mustard, or give you a 
fresh knife and fork. 

There is a great deal of outward decorum pre- 
served carefully by all classes of people here. Rob- 
beries in the street are not uncommon, and but too 
often accompanied by assassination. There is 
plenty of petty theft and dishonesty. 

The Portuguese, from all accounts, possess a 
good talent for music in general. A late writer on 



454 



GENERAL DIET. 



Portugal tells us, that both musical and dramatic 
talent are to be found among the inhabitants of 
this country ; and an anecdote is related apropos 
of this. The maid of one of the daughters of the 
Countess d'Anadia acted in an Italian amateur 
opera the part of a tyrant prince, singing perfectly 
both in time and tune the recitatives, arias, quar- 
tettos, and grand scenas, by the sole aid of her 
fine voice and retentive memory, as she had had no 
instruction in singing or acting, and could neither 
read nor write her own language. Besides this, she 
knew not a syllable of Italian. For the other arts 
they do not seem to have any peculiar aptitude. 
But let me do justice to the artistically-inspired 
washerwomen here, who occasionally return you 
your prosaic pocket-handkerchiefs, and insipid mat- 
ter-of-fact pincushion-covers, in the poetical guise 
of bouquets and birds' nests, fashioned with much 
grace and ingenuity. 

Portuguese cookery has too much the Spanish 
fault, — a redundancy of oil and garlic, — to be palat- 
able to foreigners ; however, at the Braganza Hotel, 
we had not much to complain of on that score — the 
English taste and style happily predominated. At 
Portuguese dinners, I believe, there is generally a 
good deal of rice, done in divers ways : the profu- 
sion and variety of dishes is remarkable at their 
meals. If my authorities are correct, the breakfasts 
and suppers are the most important repasts in this 
part of the world ; at the former, the fare they re- 
gale themselves with is exceedingly substantial — 
fish, with beef-steaks and other solid articles of 
food, usually make their appearance and quick dis- 
appearance on these occasions. Tea and coffee 
form the inferior accompaniments only to these 



NOT NICE TO A SHADE. 



455 



substantial dishes. Supper is a favourite refresh- 
ment with all, and often seems to be considered 
the chief repast of the day. 

There is a kind of cake made here, which, 
according to some accounts, is composed of a 
very rancid and horrible kind of oil, remarkable 
for its extremely strong flavour and scent, — and 
of fine flour, and honey. The Lisbonians are ex- 
cessively fond of this nauseous compound: it ap- 
pears to me not to be very unlike the oil-cake 
we have in England, employed — as Smithfield 
can show us — in a different manner. A weakness 
of digestion, which is a common ailment here, 
is by some attributed to the profuse and uni- 
versal use of oil in their food. The enervating in- 
fluences of climate and a natural indolence must 
also, however, be taken into consideration. These 
remarks apply chiefly to the inhabitants of the 
towns; the peasantry are hardier and healthier; being 
almost constantly in the air, and accustomed to work 
and exercise, they may boast of muscular frames 
and invigorated constitutions. Their fare is poor but 
not unwholesome: coarse black bread, composed of 
maize or of barley, some dried fish, a little garlic, 
and goat's -milk cheese, generally constitute its 
greater portion. This latter article is usually salt, 
dry, and hard as a stone, so that the teeth with 
difficulty can make any impression on it. Still 
they thrive on this fare : though wanting in flesh, 
they seem strong, sinewy, and robust. 

A fat man formerly, it appears, was a rara avis 
in this kingdom. An English author says, he saw 
but one fat man the whole time he was in Por- 
tugal, and that was a monk — (it was in the days of 
monks) : and another speaks of a corpulent peasant 



456 



BLACK VERSUS WHITE. 



as an extraordinary wonder, and informs his readers, 
the one " stout gentleman" of Portugal at that pe- 
riod was in receipt of a pension from England, in 
consequence of his having had a dreadful wound 
while showing the way to the Duke of Wellington 
at a critical time. This solitary plump specimen 
might be looked on as a sort of prize-peasant here. 
He should have got a Portuguese " Barnum" to 
show him. 

Mostly the peasantry are excessively dark-com- 
plexioned, more so, perhaps, than the climate would 
seem to warrant. I have known this attributed in a 
very great measure to the numerous intermarriages 
of the lower orders with the blacks and mulattoes 
that come here in numbers from the Brazils, &c. 
This happens in Brazil itself. The old ancestral 
" clear olive " is in a transition state. I remember 
an American naval officer telling me once that he 
had several times visited that country, and that he 
was surprised and amused to see at every successive 
visit a darker shade on the universal complexion, 
" deeper and deeper still," owing to these constant 
intermarriages : that universal complexion from 
dim crepuscule was advancing to a dull, dusky 
eventide, and so on by convenient short stages, 
waning off to frowning midnight : the general skin 
was gradually but surely clouding over, till it bade 
fair— if this is not a contradiction in terms — soon 
to exhibit a total eclipse. 

It must be rather a singular spectacle, a white 
people by degrees becoming thus be-niggered ; thus 
going from faint cuticular twilight — entre chat et 
hup, — to nocturnal nubilosity ; as though Indian 
ink were drizzling and dripping incessantly from 
their skies, and sinking into their pores ; or, as if 



CLIMATE OF LISBON. 



457 



through some singular property in the natural 
composition of the nation, coal or bog-oak were 
slowly crop ping-out from their own strangely-pro- 
ductive epidermis ; or, as though the entire popu- 
lation were perpetually employed in surreptitiously 
climbing an imperceptible sooty chimney, and de- 
scending ever more and more begrimed and be- 
smirched ; — a sable veil, little by little, falling over 
the face of human nature, — a murky night stealing 
on, and overtaking the outer man, — a jetty, self- 
spreading, " infallible dye," stealthily shrouding up 
the smutted countenance of mortality, — a gathering 
blot dimming the blurred page of existence there; — 
a natural sticking-plaister formation, making them 
one entire beauty-spot, — -patched " cap-a-pie ! " — 
a natural, dark, dingy crape-mask, creeping fold by 
fold over the features of Humanity, and muffling 
them up burglar-wise ; — a viewless, lingering ex- 
tinguisher, with measured fall, quenching the light 
of beauty in the race, or an impalpable pair of 
snuffers leisurely snuffing out all their brighter hues, 
and leaving but Tartarean tints behind ; — so they're 
slightly be-niggered! — the common hair, I suppose, 
gradually frizzling as the skin is being nicely 
browned — (I had almost said the crackling — for 
something in the latter description reminds one 
just a little of the roast-pork process,) — and yet 
more than nicely browned — neatly blackened bit by 
bit, and layer by layer, deliberately and delicately ; 
and dab by dab, and daub by daub, gently pitched- 
over and ebon-stained, as by a shadowy, invisible, 
magic blacking -brush, dipped in most Plutonian 
hues. Printers' fallen angels grow not dimmer. 
It appears the reverse of our mourning customs 
and costumes : instead of from profound crape and 



458 



A MUSICAL PARTY. 



bombasin to lighter silk or muslin, they seem going 
from very slight second-mourning to quite the 
deepest and most dismal of weeds and sables. It 
makes one think of an JBthiop's skin changing the 
wrong way. 

Men thus may say of this flourishing empire, as 
it advances in prosperity, it is more and more lost 
in obscurity. In short, it seems really turning ex- 
ceedingly black, like a bruised nation, — very badly 
bruised, indeed, apparently. A complexional thun- 
der-storm appears mustering in tenebrious gloom, 
threatening soon to gather over the whole po- 
pular physiognomy ; and shortly they shall be 
doomed to prove an altogether overcast community; 
tens of thousands seem passing through progressive, 
grim, grizzled gradations, till they shall arrive at 
last at a sloe-black crisis. The personal horizon 
looks lowering. Whatever may be the condition 
of the internal administration of the body -politic, 
externally there is anarchy and confusion of skins. 
This description is, perhaps, a little perplexed. 
Obscurum per obscurius. 

However warm and pleasant the climate of 
Lisbon is in general, there are cold sharp days 
every now and then, as we experienced on our re- 
turn from Madeira, and we were right glad to have 
in the Braganza the means and appliances of a 
comfortable blaze. No accommodation for warmth 
in many houses, I am informed, is provided ; and it 
seems the natives have frequently a strong prejudice 
against having fires in their apartments, regarding 
the practice as unwholesome and enervating. 

Some time ago, a traveller in Portugal informs 
us, that at a costly and brilliant entertainment 
given here, during a hard winter, the unfortunate 



ANIMATION RESTORED. 



459 



guests sat in mournful silence, shivering with cold, 
with their teeth chattering in their heads — the 
only thing that did chatter in the room. The poor 
sufferers were wrapped in furs and cloaks, exactly 
as though they were a party of Siberian exiles just 
going to set out on their cheerless expedition, in- 
stead of a gay company collected to enjoy a splen- 
did entertainment. Senhor Estaban, who, with his 
handkerchief covering his mouth, was evidently 
experiencing the beginnings of a severe pain in the 
face, addressed himself in a mumbling tone to 
Donna Isabel, whose nose alone was visible, of a 
brilliant azure hue. Dom Manuel and Donna 
Enriqueta attempted to sing a duet, but a burst 
of sonorous sneezes stopped them inopportunely. 
" Minlia" — (Sneeze, a-chiss-ou.) " Vida" — (Sneeze, 
sneeze.) — " Ouve ! ouve ! " * (Sneeze, sneeze, 
sneeze.) They might have succeeded better, per- 
haps, later in the evening in the little Spanish 
comic cough-song, "Ay/ que estoy consti/jao." 
(Ugh ! what a cold I've caught !) Shuddering and 
exceedingly pallid, with a small icicle on his mou- 
stache, Dom Louis, seated beside another fair donna, 
tried to show her some drawings and engravings 
that lay on a table near them, handing over one or 
two for her inspection, and hoarsely asking in a 
husky whisper her opinion. The poor half-frozen 
one drew her chapped hand from her muff to take 
them, and frowned, quivering like an aspen, and 
put it in again, for she felt her chilled fingers would 
have refused their office. Her young brother, mean- 
while, had been running up and down the passage, 
vigorously beating himself. 



* " My life ! listen ! hark ! hark !" 



460 



A NARROW ESCAPE. 



The shuddering, shivering, teeth-chattering, 
shaking and quaking, continued till some cups of 
exceedingly hot coffee were happily handed round, 
and, at the risk of scalding their mouths, the 
half- congealed company hastily swallowed the 
steaming liquid, when a genial warmth began gra- 
dually to comfort them. They recovered the use of 
their benumbed limbs, and could cross the chilly 
floor pretty successfully, — avoiding contact in- 
stinctively with the glacier-like marble slabs that 
adorned the room. The gallant Doms also, ungal- 
lantly enough, shrank from the snowy foreheads 
and fingers of the fair. Anything snowy gave 
them a cold shiver. Faithful hearts, too, then and 
there would have turned icy-cold at the idea of 
being compared to the ever-true needle, — " as 
turns the needle to the North." The North ! Phew ! 
'T would have seemed a keen, bitter, biting insult ! 
The thought was catarrh, and rheumatism, and 
purple noses ; and down would have sank their love 
to zero at once. The North ! the very name might 
give a stiff-neck and toothache under the circum- 
stances. A rapid thaw, however, took place, and 
none of the party were actually frozen to death, 
though a few pretty noses were a little frost-bitten, 
and severe chilblains and sore throats were the 
order of the day for some time after. Their escape 
was a narrow one, and they might have been 
betrayed into giving a loud hurrah of joy, and into 
charging their cups, — and saucers inclusive, in their 
ardour, — to drink D. Maria da Gloria's health in 
their coffee, or their favourite warm chicken-broth, 
a little after the manner of renowned Alp-climbers, 
when they have surmounted some trying difficulty. 
Hosts here, during inclement winters, should pro- 



RULES FOR THE LADIES. 



461 



vide " weather helmets " (such as they wear in the 
Arctic regions) and a few spare buffalo-hides for 
their poor guests, if they thus eschew^ fires. 

As doors and windows do not fit to perfection 
here (it is not often that they clo abroad), the evil of 
this low temperature is not a little increased by the 
w r ind rushing through the numerous openings, with 
such force that at times it is almost impossible to 
prevent the lighted candles in the evening from being 
extinguished. Our poor friends above-mentioned, 
therefore, in singing their sneeze and cough-songs, 
might have been assisted by a whistling obligato 
accompaniment of those rude wind instruments — . 
ill- constructed window-frames and doors. In the 
country-houses, the dismal roaring of the bluster- 
ing Boreas and his fellows is vastly augmented in 
particular positions, by the loud noise it produces 
in blowing through multitudinous cows' horns, that 
are attached to the sails of the countless windmills, 
in order to intimidate the cattle, and prevent their 
venturing too near them in the night time ; and 
the mischief is still further aggravated by the fact 
that the Portuguese rooms have a great number of 
the aforesaid ill-fitting doors ; indeed, the abundance 
of these outlets forms a distinctive characteristic of 
apartments here : each in general is provided with 
the glass-window at top I have mentioned before. 
Six doors, with their six accompanying clumsy and 
too airy key-holes, are sometimes the extravagant 
allowance for a moderately-sized chamber. The 
chief sitting-rooms are often built immediately over 
the stables, and necessarily are strongly impreg- 
nated with the odours that usually are prevalent 
there. 

The women in Portugal are not incarcerated 



462 



CUSTOM RESPECTING SERVANTS. 



and watched as they used to be. An old Portu- 
guese proverb says, " A woman should leave home 
only thrice — to be christened, married, and buried." 
I think the Spaniards have a similar saying, but it 
is of Lusitanian origin, I believe. A traveller in 
this country some time back was rather severe on 
the youthful Portuguese donnas, saying, that they 
required incessant watching, and were incorrigible 
coquettes. This writer informs us that the Lis- 
bonian mother drives her daughters before her, 
on returning from mass and other occasions, " like 
a row of organ pipes," the youngest leading, 
and the others, however large their number, fol- 
lowing in rotation separately ; two never walking 
together. Then we are informed, that while they 
skilfully pick their way through the mire with 
their thin-soled shoes and fine silk stockings, with 
downcast looks to show their modesty (and also, 
I should opine, to help them in thus picking their 
road, and saving their chaussure from utter mud- 
spattered pollution and destruction), all the time 
they have a billet-doux very improperly concealed 
in their handkerchiefs, or in the folds of their 
dresses. Even at church, sometimes, we are told, 
they contrive to exchange billets with their inamo- 
ratos. 

But we will believe better things of Lusita- 
nian ladies now, and conclude these disgraceful 
little mal-practices belonged solely to the days 
when it was considered women " ought only to be 
from home to be christened, married, or buried." 
A cheerful prospect truly, and enough to make 
her think the last the best ; or rather, to think she 
need not leave her home at all for that last ! 

The number of domestic servants is often ex- 



ESTREMADURA OXEN. 



463 



ceedingly great in the old families, who have thus 
retained a fashion, rather inconvenient to them 
now, considering their limited means. Some few 
years ago, it was no very unusual circumstance for 
a fidalgo to become quite impoverished from the 
immense retinue he kept about his person for mere 
state and show* One, who was most likely not 
affluent originally, was noted as being almost re- 
duced to beggary from supporting eighty in-door 
domestics. They behave most kindly to old and 
worn-out servants ; sometimes amongst their large 
number of retainers, several will be incapacitated 
to do any work, either through advanced age or sick- 
ness, but they continue to form part of the establish- 
ment, and that frequently for many years after 
they have been unable to render themselves in any 
way useful. Like soldiers, their servants are gene- 
rally fed on rations. As old-fashioned ideas re- 
specting a vain and merely outwardly-pretended 
state and pomp vanish, establishments will pro- 
bably be more economically adjusted and better 
adapted to the means at the command of the 
master of the family. 

It is not long ago that one of these impo- 
verished fidalgoes, or nobles, unable to meet the 
expense of keeping horses and mules, and car- 
riages, and yet alive to the necessity of not allow- 
ing the numerous members of his family to walk 
on foot, hit on the expedient of having one large 
vehicle for them all, like the travelling caravan of 
a select menagerie, drawn by two sturdy bullocks, 
however, instead of horses, which Messrs. Lion, 
Tiger, and Co. might think infra dig. I suppose 
they had a carter in livery, ropes embellished with 
wrought coronets, and a yoke covered with crests : 



464 



DRESS OF THE PEASANTRY. 



the appropriate motto would have been " Festina 
lente" Thus they flourished through the streets 
of Lisbon, with their shouting, gee-uping drover 
(as at this day similar equipages rumble through 
the Funchal thoroughfares). The fraternity of the 
<£ whip" must have looked down a little on the ac- 
complished " Goad" who drove them, and handled 
the ribbons — of rope. 

Apropos of oxen ; the best and handsomest 
come from the province of Estremadura ; they draw 
the load by their horns ■ their yokes are carefully 
adjusted on straw mats, which are arranged so 
as to prevent these heavy yokes from rubbing the 
animals ; and the oxen, on account of the hard, 
stony nature of the roads, are generally shod. 
These creatures are so docile and obedient, that 
a word, or even look, from their driver (who com- 
monly precedes them), keeps them in the right 
road. Very frequently a bare-footed damsel walks 
also before them, bearing in her hands cords at- 
tached to the oxen. They know her, and obey her 
slightest sign, for she accompanies them to their 
pasture, attends them at their manger, grooms them, 
and carefully keeps their horns bright and shining 
by the application of grease. She is proud of her 
well-dressed, polished-up, and pomatumed charges, 
and a tender reciprocal attachment subsists be- 
tween the in. 

As I am touching on provincial matters, I will 
just mention the curious straw-cloaks worn by the 
peasants of some of the provinces. They are capital 
contrivances for them, as no rain can penetrate into 
them. A man seems more to be lodging in this 
mantle than attired by it. He appears habited in 
an accommodating hovel, and to have a bed and 



AN AUSTERE WAITER. 465 



roof at hand — on his back, in case of wanting them 
on an emergency. If weary, he may rest beneath 
this ready shelter, and be awakened haply by " the 
swallow twittering from the straw-built shed" of 
that rough robe that clothes and covers him. If 
he is a carter, too, and his oxen are hungry, he 
can feed them on a bit of his cloak (chopped straw 
is often their fare). These wrappers are called 
crozas, and are somewhat Chinese-looking : they 
are made of maize-straw. 

But I must check my rambling pen : " time 
and tide wait for no man," still less for any woman ; 
and steam-packets have a tiresome knack of being 
punctual. We must call Bento, our clerical waiter, 
and give him due directions respecting our chattels. 
This Bento is successor to German John, and 
was, once on a time, a Spanish priest, who disliked 
his vocation, and ran away to escape from it. The 
shadow of the huge shovel -hat, however, that had 
once weighed on his sconce, seemed ever to darken 
his countenance. He put our plates before us with 
freezing solemnity, — enough to make the soup run 
cold, and he grasped the bill of fare as if it were a 
Papal bull ; he spoke, too, ever in dirge-like tones. 
His " Coming, sir 1" had he uttered it in English, 
might have been set to the Dead March in Saul. He 
uncovered the dishes as. if about to read the burial- 
service over their contents — perhaps a couple of fat 
ducks, or a chicken, — the light of the coop, prema- 
turely cut off in early pullethood, not yet in the 
zenith of its feathered charms, or full hey-day of its 
glad gravel-scratching, — cut off, not by the pip of 
Nature, not by the mere finger of Pate, but by the 
finger and thumb of culinary man, or woman. He 
brought food, but his stern look said " Fast." 

H H 



466 



CHAOS TRIUMPHANT. 



So gloomy at times was his brow, that you might 
imagine, as he flourished severely the dinner- 
napkin, he was about to use it as a scourge, and 
commence a self-flagellation on the spot. 

The odd-boy, Joaquim, the "many-sided" (to 
borrow a term applied to the illustrious Goethe), — 
Joaquim, the "myriad-minded," or, more correctly, 
myriad-handed — (myriad left-handed, par jiaren- 
these) — dropped his wild -man or wild-boy-of-the- 
woods air in that austere presence ; his merry grin 
retreated before the grave glances of the reverend 
head-waiter— the priestly " garcon," who from time 
to time fulminated in your ear the flavorous names 
of impending stews or imminent sweets, as if he 
were grimly thundering forth excommunications : 
that grin did not quite vanish, I think, but seemed 
to bide itself in out-of-the-way holes and corners of 
the odd -imp's physiognomy, — 'twas a broken-up 
and wide-scattered grin : a twirl of it survived in his 
nostril, a curl of it in his eyebrow, and it seemed 
running up along the roots and shoots of all his 
shaggy, moppy locks, — those locks that were wont 
to look, separately and severally, like so many bold, 
brazen-faced hairs a-kimbo, defying every possible 
comb, brush, or other appliances of disentanglement, 
to smooth their revolutionary riot. Even Joaquim 
thus became serious in a sort, and seemed turned 
to a kind of nasal, drawling clerk, by the solemn 
side of the ex-ecclesiastic — (a rather odd one, we 
must own) ; and his very hair, his insurrectionary 
hair, looked somewhat subdued, despite those am- 
bushed grimaces which appeared lurking in its 
labyrinths. But now, indeed, for the second time, 
adieu to Lisbon ! — " Farewell ! Sweet spot !" — But 
no ! — Conscience will not allow me to apostrophise 



RIVALRY IN SCENTS. 



467 



thee thus ! " Sweet ?" — faugh ! — What need hath 
Lisbon of forts and bulwarks, if her natural defensive 
resources are as powerful and matchless as her offen- 
sive ones ? — (If ever she was conquered, the victors 
would not repose on beds of roses, assuredly.) 
Think ! if Lisbon were to march upon Cologne, 
and Cologne meet Lisbon half-way, both bent on 
offensive operations, what a tug of war would there 
be. But we should not smell gunpowder there ! 
Yet let me give the Portuguese capital her due ; 
she is greatly improved lately ; and while the 
zephyr grows balmy in some streets — according to 
Lisbonian interpretation, — as it hovers around cer- 
tain turbid gutters, and heaps and hotbeds that are 
decidedly not flower-beds, it wanders over many 
other insipid places, highly uninteresting and tame, 
— barren of all such peculiar aromatic delights. If 
what is said of their tastes have any foundation in 
fact, one should be rather afraid to imagine what 
the ladies here may have put into their smelling- 
bottles and vinaigrettes. 

We had a very rough passage to Cadiz, and 
however good a sailor one may be, this is always 
disagreeable more or less, for it sets all one's things 
rolling about, and it does not mend matters at sea, 
where one is cooped up, "cabined, cribbed, confined," 
and where there is no place for anything, to have 
everything out of its place, and the floor literally 
carpeted with carpet-bags, lively and reeling, and 
positively paved with books, scissors, pincushions, 
buckles, pen -knives, bodkins, and needles, also 
combs showing all their teeth viciously, keenly- 
pointed steel-pens rampant, and truant pencils, 
carefully sharpened, stuck up threateningly in the 
cracks and crevices of the floor, and perhaps bits 



468 



STRANGE SIGHTS AT SEA. 



of a broken looking-glass — and all under pitching 
and tossing circumstances. What a melancholy 
alteration, too, appears on the faces of one's, 
fellow -voyagers ! — all "have suffered a sea-change," 
and look as blooming as so many crocuses. Surely 
yon lady — 

" Has mistaken her rouge, 
And thick laid on instead a whole cake of gamboge." 

Well ! " to this complexion all must come at last " 
at sea, or nearly all. I am truly thankful to be a 
good sailor; for dreadful seem the pangs of the 
unhappy ones who display the yellow flag of plague 
on their bilious-tinted cheeks — they verily seem 
"perked up in a golden sorrow/' 

When I woke in the morning, after a sound, 
long sleep, my maid gave me a sad account of the 
disasters of the night, standing beside my berth 
almost ankle-deep in escaped oranges, from some 
secret depot hard by, — (we happened to have the 
ladies' cabin to ourselves, and that is frequently 
full of stores), and divers other strays besides the 
too-ripe, juicy fruits, were there, such as scattered 
toilet-articles, biscuits on the tramp, nomadic lumps 
of sugar, and vagrant figs, that had followed the 
oranges, nobody seemed to know from whence. 
These were all wandering like restless spirits over 
the face of the cabin. " Oh, laws ! indeed, this is 
nothing to what there is in the other cabin !" she 
exclaimed, proceeding pretty literally in this strain 
— " nothing ! you've got- to scramble through the 
stewardess, that's tumbled right out of her berth, 
without waking, and so used to it, poor thing ! she 
sleeps like a top and a dead body anywhere, and a 
heap of sick Irish children with their poor mother 



NAUTICAL TRANSFORMATIONS. 469 



going to take them to their father — she can't pro- 
nounce the name where, and don't know, I think, 
— in cnrl-papers, and not a 'versal comb to the back 
hair, or stays, or hooks and eyes, or anything, — just 
like Chaos, without a nightcap, in dishabille, and a 
ragged pinafore about the shoulders, and a pap- 
boat, — and a squalling babby, that belongs to her, 
or somebody else, I believe, dreadfully tumbled and 
turned upside down" (and, poor little wretch! in- 
side out too, probably), " all jumbling and tossing 
in this jolting ship, running about without shoes 
and stockings, and broken bottles on the floor, and 
nasty rusty crooked nails, out of some old trunks of 
hers, and splinters from a smashed box, and cold 
bunches of hard keys, and steel forks, and carving- 
knives, and skewers, — no one knows how they got 
there, — and fishbones from supper, and old tooth- 
picks, and the boy's horrid slippy marbles, and 
cannons, and cannon-balls, — that's peas, to keep 
him quiet, — all on the roll, and everything planted 
about everywhere, — and Spanish liquorice, and 
lucifer-matches, and iron hooks from somewhere, 
and rough bits of walnut-shells, and a razor or 
two she's taking to her husband, dreadful sharp, 
and cracked chaney, and corkscrews, and nut- 
crackers, and our bonnets all out of any shape 
amongst them, full of sticky figs and raisins as they 
can be" (one would think dried figs grew at sea, as 
somebody seemed to fancy roasted apples did in 
England, and were the only fruit that ripened there, 
too). " Oh, dear ! only to think ! and tooth-brushes, 
and mattrasses, and bolsters, and goloshes, and 
umbrellas, and our little bandbox, all littering 
about and spoiling, I'm sure — such a desert ! Our 
best bonnets look like old butter-boats (and the 



470 



A TRAVELLING FAMILY. 



sea's in the cabin, too, that knocked me down 
quite, for nothing can stand agen salt-water ; blue 
ribbon, partickler, hasn't a chance against the rude 
ocean, nor any other dye, as to that, — I do believe 
the sea would wash the colour out of a born Green- 
lander ! — or out of the whole Board of Green- 
Cloth, — whatever that is, if you come to that,) — 
and the shapes, our new shapes, they are mined 
in that cabin, — the trimmings in tatters, the crowns 
squeezed, the bows spoilt, the wires bent, the edges 
torn, and the linings ripped, — that cabin's a mu- 
seum for wild Ingians and Cannibals, — it's a per- 
fect picture of a plantation, — it really is a desert, 
a waste without a tree — a howling wilderness, with 
not a single human bonnet to go decent on shore 
with !" 

A dismal view the bereaved one took of things, 
and not perfectly clear was her description, - — a 
thought ambiguous, — perhaps ; but, however, ac- 
cording to her idea, it wouldn't so much matter, 
under the circumstances, if you were hipped and in 
low spirits, for it seems the sea would thoroughly 
wash out the blue devils themselves. But a litter, 
indeed, it must have been, in that wilderness-like 
cabin, what with scattered stewardesses, topsy- 
turvy babbies, cracked crockery -ware, bolsters, 
bonnets, brushes, and band-boxes ! As to the poor 
children from the Emerald Isle, it is a singular fact, 
that there always appears to be on board a family 
of Irish children, perpetually going to some distant 
parent, w r ho is generally an engineer, invariably 
at some out-of-the-way, unpronounceable place ; all 
squalling, all sea-sick, all scattered about, — univer- 
sally uncombed and universally unodoriferous ; all 
sure to cry all night, and be equally sure to do 



PORTRAITS AT SEA. 



471 



nothing else all day, and to be in the same cabin 
with the unfortunate lady's maid, whom, however, 
the compassionate stewardess usually rescues the 
next morning. 

Away hurried my informant, having breath- 
lessly imparted the foregoing and other information 
to me, to see if she could uncrease the crumpled 
bonnets and crushed goloshes ; perhaps smooth and 
straighten a little the dog's-eared baby, (which 
might have half-wriggled into one of the aforesaid 
bonnets by this time,) and snatch the precious 
bandbox from impending destruction, in the event 
of a fall of passengers from the neighbouring berths, 
during some heavy lurch of the vessel. 

When we afterwards beheld some of those we 
had seen step on board light and jocund, hardly 
should we have recognised them ! Look on yon 
crest-fallen, straight-haired, neglected-looking, saf- 
fron-tinged individual there, laid flat on the deck 
erewhile, and now seated in a collapsed attitude 
on the first place he found. Is that the " curled 
darling " of yesterday ? — scented, pomatumed, 
studded, padded, ringed, wrist -banded, gloved, 
frilled, frizzled, chained, watched, embroidered, 
starched, pocket-handkerchiefed, eye-glass in eye, 
cane in hand ; he hath verily a lack-lustre eye now ; 
his cheek is hollow, his brow is furrowed, his 
countenance expresses horrible woe ; he looks with 
that over-shadowed forehead, that compressed lip, 
slightly turned down, that bent-forward head, that 
falling jaw, sadly, painfully, as if he had very lately, 
indeed, won the sum of two shillings and lost half- 
a-crown. To his quizzing-glass, inclusive, he has 
a decidedly qualmish aspect. Qualmish qualities 
seem developed in his high-heeled boots ; — those 



472 



MOKE PORTRAITS. 



boots look bilious ; their tap is feeble ; their tone 
lowered, high heels and all. Nausea has become 
a second nature to him. Observe a little that pas- 
senger (No. 2), who is appearing from the realms 
below, like a ghost from the tombs, lank, lean, 
faint, outworn, and scarcely able to crawl. Did 
we not remark him yesterday, hopping on board 
with a jovial, waggish air, his every step and look, 
and tone and turn, seeming to say heroically, 
"Who's afraid?" 

All seemed then like gay Comedy with the 
merry mask and the buskin ; all appeared like 
gaunt Tragedy now, madly flourishing the dagger 
and the bowl, — or, at any rate, the basin. Some- 
body asks yon victim how he does : he tries to raise 
his heavy eyes ; he slowly gets them to the shoes 
of his interlocutor; another mighty effort, they 
reach his instep — his ankle, — struggle upward to 
his knee, sink back again to the ankles and 
shoes, and flounder and fumble, if eyes can fumble 
and flounder, like broken-down optics on their 
last legs ; and at last he feebly and faulteringly, 
with uncertain, disconnected accents, murmurs, 
" On-ly pret-ty well." Neither well nor pretty, sir, 
are you, you unfortunate land -lubber — utterly 
" of the earth, earthy," are you. If the sea was 
all antimonial wine, and you had drunk it to the 
last dregs, you could hardly make a more dolorous 
face ; and that is the face that looked so blithe, 
and brisk, and effervescing yesterday, — that is he 
who sprang up on deck with a sort of flash and 
burst like embodied ginger-pop ! 

There is yet another, who yestermorn was al] 
calm placidity, all tranquil enjoyment ; now his 
face is troubled — his brow clouded — his lip quivers 



A PLEASING CHANGE. 



473 



— his eye, like the poet's, is in a fine frenzy rolling, 
and glances from sea to sky, and from sky to sea, 
with a jerking, hurried motion, as if the visual orbs, 
with a sadly vacant stare, were pulled by strings, 
as are the eyelids of some cunningly-contrived dolls; 
and but y ester-afternoon, how smooth were those 
glances ! those eyes seem to run and roll upon in- 
visible castors ! 

I wonder much whether keen-sighted detec- 
tive Policeman A. or B. would know his man 
again, after a couple of days and nights' tossing 
in a crowded steamer. These ills, however, had 
an end, happily, soon for many — a temporary one, 
at any rate, for the rest. We arrived at length at 
Cadiz; gladly did those bound to that port prepare 
to disembark ; gladly did those who were not 
bound there avail themselves of the little reprieve, 
and sit basking in peace in the sunshine. Comedy 
once more shows her smiling phiz, particularly in 
yonder individual ; look, if you can, without laugh- 
ing, at that face surmounted by a scratch-wig, sur- 
mounted by a hand-towel, surmounted by a flannel 
bag, surmounted by a cotton nightcap, surmounted 
by a top-knot, surmounted by a pocket-handker- 
chief, surmounted by a bandeau (of packthread), 
surmounted by a travelling cap, surmounted by a 
tassel, surmounted by a torn oil-skin. From the 
great care with which this gentleman has out- 
wardly furnished his upper-story, he would seem to 
have been a prey to toothache, but the sight of land 
appears to have cured that as well as other ills. A 
sad diversion from sea-sickness must toothache have 

been, in sooth ! 

* * * # 

I shall long remember my sejour at Lisbon 



474 PORTUGUESE CHARACTERISTICS. 



with pleasurable feelings. There is much to like 
in the people, and in case my own descriptions 
have not done them justice, I am anxious to quote 
a very interesting account of them, given by Count 
Raczynski, who travelled herein 1845 : — 

" Generally speaking, I boldly assert that this 
country is unknown. I do not accurately recollect 
what American author it was that observed, ' Take 
from a Spaniard the few virtues which he possesses, 
and you will make a Portuguese.' Byron, in his 
' Childe Harold,' stigmatises the Portuguese as ' the 
lowest of the low.' The statesmen themselves in Por- 
tugal deplore with tears in their eyes the demorali- 
sation of the people. Eor my own part, I find this 
demoralisation only in those who are so loud in their 
complaints — intriguing politicians, pamphleteers, 
and clubbists, — and in those of their degenerate 
priests who have become demagogues, politicians, 
freethinkers, and pamphleteers. They see this de- 
moralisation in the mirror in which they them- 
selves are imaged. I have learnt to consider the 
Portuguese as an intelligent, a laborious, and a 
worthy and temperate people ; their character is 
good, docile, and gay. They are easy to govern, 
and are attached to religion and to the throne. 
They are, in short, inclined to loyalty and piety — 
virtues which are made to bear in the liberal vo- 
cabulary a particular name : they are called Super- 
stition and Slavery therein." 

In describing the objects of architectural in- 
terest at Thomar, the same author, after observing 
of the convent of Thomar — " It is an extremely 
picturesque assemblage of all styles, as if to do 
honour to the most distant times, as well as to the 
last century," adds ; " and here, too, are seen the 



THE SOVEREIGN'S TITLES. 



475 



effects of the negligence, the disorder, and the 
degradation which have marked the last twenty 
years of the constitutional and revolutionary his- 
tory of Portugal. It seems, however, that order 
is now about to resume its empire. * * 
The country between Santarem and Thomar affords 
every facility for examining the present state of cul- 
tivation in Portugal. From what I have remarked 
in this and in various other Portuguese provinces, 
I am decidedly of opinion that the statements re- 
garding the miseries of this country are either ex- 
aggerated or entirely false. The banks of the Tagus 
are cultivated on an extensive scale, and with the 
greatest possible care. I have seen land farmed 
with a skill, and improved with an industry, unri- 
valled in the richest countries of Germany. I recall 
with pleasure the impressions which were made 
upon me by the banks of the Mondego, and some 
oases between Villa Nova and Caldas, Leiria, Con- 
deixa, &e. And yet, what is all this in comparison 
with what is called the garden of Portugal — the 
province of the Minho ? the smallest in the king- 
dom, but containing 800,000 inhabitants, almost 
one-third of the entire population of the kingdom." 

It is rather sad to contrast the noble, high- 
sounding titles of the Portuguese Ruler with the 
present enfeebled, impoverished state of the country, 
notwithstanding Raczynski's praise. The following 
are the Sovereign's titles : — Queen of Portugal and 
the Algarves, Lady of Guinea {not Guineas, — it is 
strictly in the singular number !), and of the Na- 
vigation, and Conquest, and Commerce of Ethiopia, 
Arabia, Persia, &c. &c. &c. No wonder, if there 
were not still more material reasons, that the poor 
little donkey on which her Majesty delights to ride 



476 



PORTUGUESE MONASTERIES. 



should hide his diminished corpus under such im- 
posing pretensions. When the Queen mounts the 
lowly animal, all disappears but the long ears and 
the tail, and the little jogging, onward progression, 
seems a matter of mystery. 

Few were the travellers in Portugal before the 
suppression of the monasteries who had not a fling 
at the Portuguese monks. On their shoulders were 
generally laid all the worst faults of their country 
and countrymen. Indolent and dissolute them- 
selves, according to these authorities, they gave an 
example of idleness and licentiousness to all. 

They were as a rottenness at the core, that 
spread through the whole contaminated fruit. 
These monks, however, the objects of so much 
vituperation and bitterness, were not without some 
earnest apologists and zealous admirers. Prince 
Lichnowsky, in his "Portuguese Reminiscences " 
(in 1842), in speaking of the suppressed monas- 
tery of Arrabida (which was saved from probable 
destruction owing to its being bought by the 
Duke of Palmella, who has laudably preserved it 
as an interesting historical and ecclesiastical monu- 
ment), says : " Passing by several small chapels, 
we reached the place wdiere, according to some 
writers, the monks formerly gave themselves up to 
every species of unbridled licentiousness. Nothing 
but the most extravagant creclulitv or the most 
profound ignorance could admit such a suspicion ; 
which must appear manifestly most unfounded to 
all those who take the trouble to examine rigidly 
those miserable abodes. While standing in the 
sorry hermitage where these barefooted, zealous 
sons of the Church met only for penance and 
prayer, the thought struck me that the most just 



PORTUGUESE FRIARS. 



477 



punishment for the authors of such absurd asper- 
sions would be to shut them up for some time on 
this very spot, where, dieted on spare regimen, they 
might sweetly experience the monkish pleasures, 
and lead the dissolute life of the poor hermits, till, 
with bodies emaciated by constant discipline and 
hair-shirts, they should be cured of the malevo- 
lence of their thoughts. * * * . * * Many 
of the cells are hollowed in the rock, others are 
raised against it. All are but a few feet square, 
scarcely affording space for one person to move 
about in them. The doorways are narrow and low, 
and it is indispensably necessary to stoop every 
time you enter ; small windows, or rather aper- 
tures, admit a faint light into these recesses. * * 
Even this, little as it was, they were deprived of 
without remorse ; and the fact is placed beyond a 
doubt, that throughout the whole Iberian Peninsula 
not a single friar, with the exception of some who 
were unworthy of the name, among the great 
number of those who have been cast forth on the 
world, has ceased to lament bitterly, though un- 
availingly, the loss of his diminutive cloister, where 
his dedicated hours were spent in watching, fasting, 
mortification, prayer, solemn reflection, and self- 
humiliation/' 

The poor friars had here a warm-hearted and 
generous champion and partisan. One thing must 
be said for them, in contravention of the wide- 
sweeping accusations breathed forth against them, 
and the unsparing abuse levelled at them. They 
appear to have been almost invariably charitable 
and attentive to the poor and necessitous. Besides 
this, since they were driven away from their ancient 
abodes, and deprived of their ancient privileges and 



478 



FINAL TRIUMPH OF 



possessions, — of all authority and influence, — have 
the people sensibly improved in morals, industry, 
and other virtues and excellences ? If not, should 
the friars be so severely blamed for faults which, 
perhaps, some among them largely shared, but did 
not particularly originate or disseminate ? 

Those in authority should reflect that merely 
sweeping away monks and monasteries, — half-de- 
funct drones and their dead-houses, if you will, — is 
but taking one step in the right direction < the void 
left must be filled up, and fittingly filled up, with that 
which is good, and great, and worthy, and wise, 
or it will remain but a void, — a yawning chasm 
and vacuum ; or, haply, when the rubbish is cleared 
away, and the space left open, other, and perhaps 
worse, rubbish may be found gradually accumu- 
lating there. You must not partially "make a 
solitude " (even of suppressed droneries) " and 
call it peace" or triumph; — some bigots, some 
idlers, some dull-witted zealots, may have been dis- 
persed and dispossessed, scattered and discomfited, 
but Bigotry, Superstition, Idleness, and Immorality 
are only to be thoroughly displaced, effaced, and 
overcome by the glorious incursion of Education 
and Intelligence, of Progress and Tolerance, Prin- 
ciple, Truth, and Reason. To undo is easy, — 
to uproot is easy, — merely to change is easy ; but 
not so easy is it to improve, to purify, to exalt, to 
embellish, to enlighten, and to establish. This, 
however, is the task all nations, in this Age of 
Advancement, and Enterprise, and Invention, and 
Intellectual Developement, are called upon to ad- 
dress themselves earnestly to. This is the true 
Royal Progress of all Peoples and Communities. 

In the van of that kingly progress tower Earth's 



REASON AND TRUTH. 



479 



gentlest and greatest ; and in this, every nation is 
summoned to assist. They are bidden as to a 
Feast of Kings, to join in this triumphal march ; 
but Labour and Perseverance are the conditions 
of that triumph, and continue to co-exist with 
it. Those Victories of Peace and Progress are 
still perpetual onslaughts, and charges, and efforts, 
and collisions. That strife is a struggle for ever, 
though crowned with success. To the mighty spirit 
of the age we offer up a holocaust of these august 
and elevated hostilities themselves, — a burnt-sacri- 
fice, that is ever burning and never consumed, — 
hostilities against all Ignorance and Evil, against all 
littleness and lowness, all weakness, and waste, 
and wrong, and worthlessness. These conflicts, 
like other conflicts, are not without their anguish, 
their ardent disquietudes, their rage ; for they 
meet oft with the dark obstructions of Preju- 
dice and Disbelief, Listlessness and Envy ; but 
theirs are holy agonies and royal tribulations ; they 
are majestic dejections, and precious throes, and 
starry perplexities. These contests are big with the 
fate of countless generations. And ever the trumpet 
sounds, and the Captains must lead to the shining 
assault, and the serried phalanxes must dare and do ; 
and the fire and sword of Thought and Truth must 
pierce and make way through the barriers of Dark- 
ness and the rugged defences of Difficulty, — Duty 
the watchword, and the World's Weal the prize ! 

The blazon of the leaders in those lofty wars is 
burning and refulgent, as if with all the golden 
pomp and bravery of all the out-flaming stars in 
the firmaments : for their seekings and strivings, 
and strainings and searchings, are ever upward- 
tending and soaring; and still leap to the light, 



480 



ONWARD PROGRESS OF 



and live into it, unchangingly. What need have 
they of the imperial emblazonings, and the trophied 
pageantries of Earth ? — All the dazzling and fiery 
heraldry of the Heavens seems to pour its blazing 
lustre in radiant-stormy floods on those arms, those 
shields, those towery crests, and to flash intolerable 
splendour on the vastness of their sublimest array. 
Yes ! the awful heraldry of the orbed, luminous 
Heavens, kindlingly illustrates, and sumptuously 
weighs down, as with a fervid crush of glory, the 
high Ensigns-armorial, and the mystic-stately em- 
blems of those embattled hosts ; for the illimitable 
universe is the ever-expanding arena of their pro- 
digious exploits, the overwhelmingly grand theatre 
of their Titanic exertions. They know Success is 
throned on the glittering, sky-y-pointing, and on- 
moving pyramid that they earnestly build with 
their own true and trenchant weapons. They bear 
her along with them. She is pledged to them from 
the far beginning. She breathes in the spirit of 
their inspired endeavour, and throbs at the very 
heart of their enterprise, and smiles on their august 
outgoings. Lo ! at times, when they themselves 
may appear to pause, and, at peace, remain watch- 
ing and silent, still their princely weapons thus 
cunningly fashioned and piled up aloft, seem yet 
more and more to be upheaved and exalted — 
(almost as though instinct with inner stir and 
strife), — and, towering, to spread into stupendous 
and glistering scaffoldings against the still-unfold- 
ing, still-outstretching, Architectural Colossus of 
the vast Creation. Not that the immeasurable 
work and structure stands incomplete, or could be 
touched and elaborated by any skill of human 
thought, or effort, or artifice, but that part by part 



THE HUMAN MIND. 



481 



is still and ever, as it were, to us re-built, — since 
it is but built unto ourselves by slow observation, 
and the gradual progress of laborious contempla- 
tion and discovery. So have they wrought, and 
so have they laid siege, and so they yet lay siege, 
to the Visible and to the Invisible; and so are yet 
more upreared those golden scaffoldings of their 
flashing arms against the imperishable walls of 
worlds around. And yet loftier deeds they do, and 
nobler schemes and undertakings they inaugurate, 
even for the supreme advantage of all Humanity. 
And the chiefs and armed champions of these 
magnificent speculations of adventure and enter- 
prise find, and shall find, for ever and everywhere, 
mighty and sovereign allies, marshalled under their 
wide-floating banner ; and thus shall they go on, 
aspiring and uplifted, still leaguing majesties with 
majesties, and triumphs with triumphs, and tran- 
scendencies with new transcendencies, and exulta- 
tions with greater exultations. From glory even to 
glory without end shall be their course. 

Seem not the deathless stars above to lean out 
of the argent-paved sky to meet and greet them on 
their high advance — even those bright-armoured 
sentinels, that appear ever standing on the beamy 
battlements of the empyreal, overhanging heights ? 
And they, the immortal adventurers, inspired and 
armed with exhaustless prowess of soul, they hang 
the out-blazing crowns of all their purple victories 
on these consenting, beatific stars — that glow with 
an added brightness — and pass on ! — Yea ! they 
pass on to gain yet more triumphant and surpass- 
ing victories ! Yea ! so they pass onward and pro- 
ceed, since they may not — must not — dare to pause 
upon their effulgent path and pilgrimage of achieve- 

i i 



482 



CONCLUSION. 



ment and high persistency. And let them go, and 
let them still rush onward, and meet and wear on 
their confronting foreheads the kindling Morning 
of new Expectancy and fresh Fruition. There is 
no end to the proud deeds to be wrought, to the 
successes to be accomplished, to the treasures to 
be disclosed, to the wonders to be compassed, or 
the secrets to be discovered. 

Let them go glorying on ! On all sides, 
above, beneath, around, the world-peopled, sun- 
strewed universe, in the boundless state of its tre- 
mendous magnificence, awaits them ! It awaits 
them with crowns, and pomps, and triumphs, and 
acclaimings, and with mighty exaltations, and re- 
joicings, and endowments, and enfranchisements, 
and songs, and illuminations. And with endless 
Beauty, and Grandeur, and Splendour, and Fervour, 
and Ecstacy, it is prepared to guerdon their superb 
audacity, and do honour to their earnest dignity of 
resolve, and to the sovereign hardihood of their 
imposing defiance, and thrice-magnanimous and 
stately challenge. Wars ? Aye ! but these wars 
are of Life and Love, of Hope and Joy. 

The streaming oriflamme of those sublime com- 
bats may again and again be waved aloft in proud 
exultation, but can never be furled. Victory thus 
is the Mother of Battles, ever nobler, ever vaster, 
and those battles are halo-girt and irradiate ; they 
are their own festivals and jubilees ! They have 
fair sisters, too, these high contests and conquests — 
even the everlasting concords, and harmonies, and 
serenities of all material creations, and the great, 
thought -quickened, calm, and rapture -leavened 
peace, of all immaterial bands and companies of 
Immortals ! The beneficent combatants must never 



CONCLUSION. 



483 



pause, — no discouragement should bid them shrink 
or doubt, no obstacles appal them. Their aim is 
pure, their glory imperishable, their transcendant 
charter is ratified by all that is highest and holiest, 
— so should their ardour be inextinguishable, and 
their energy inexhaustible. 



THE END. 



London. Printed by G. Barclat, Castle St. Leicester Sq. 



ERRATA. 



Page 3, line 23, for gleaming, read struggling, pushing. 

— 10, — 26, insert ( after crown. 

— 15, last line but 3, for hated, read detested. 

— 25, — 24, read But stay, before First. 

— 25, — 27, for the Tagus, read this lordly Tagus. 

— 25, — 32, after hank, read you proceed. 

— 34, — 2 from bottom, for dangerous enough, read a dangerous 

enough enterprise. 

— 52, — 18, for a week, read a- week. 

— 71, — 12 from bottom, before enriched, add the whole. 

— 78, — 25, after mean? insert ). 

— 83, — 6, after kettles, read abound here. 

— 85, — 2, before man, insert absent. 

— 98, — 6 and 7, for just before, read shortly before the. 

— 108, — 14, for for, read to have. 

— 125, — 8 from bottom, for pathways, read ornamental slopes 

and terraces. 

— 131, — 7 from bottom, for words, read swords. 

— 135, — 7 from bottom, for Hafir, read Hafiz, and 3 from 

bottom, full stop after bard. 

— 163, — 4 from bottom, for appear, read seem. 

— 169, last line but 4, put and instead of — after wrong. 

— 187, — 11, after say, insert as. 

— 191, — 21, instead of — put and. 

— 194, — 27, after ill-starred, insert undone. 

— 204, — 28, before take, read he may. 

— 210, last line, /or kind, read sort. 

— 212, — 5, for in the latter case, read when the latter is the case. 

— 213, — 6, remove the ( to 8th line after forth, — and line 9, for 

rest, read greater part. 

— 213, — 6 from bottom, dele l'aune. 

— 222, — 2, insert shirts or, before sketching -portfolio. 

— 223, — 13, insert ( before which, and line 17 ) after generally. 

— 229, — 18, for slender-rounded, read slender, rounded. 

— 235, — 28, before tempest, read a sudden. 

— 292, — 6, before horses, read the. 

— 297, — 9 from bottom, insert nearly after whole. 

— 316, — 10, for as well, &c, read but with the locality as well. 

— 336, last line but 5, put comma after chow-chow. 

— 355, — ]3, before helpless, read hopeless. 

— 401, — 17, for horrible, read terrible. 

— 424, — 20, after force, a comma instead of a full stop. 

— 430, — ]8, their in Italics. 

— 430, — 25, for two-leagued, read two, leagued. 

— 431, — 7, after Immortality, read and Eighteousness. 

— 434, — 15, for even, read ev'n. 

— 457, — 23, for slightly, read progressively. 

— 458, — 15, for progressive, read successive. 

— 482, last line but 2, dele comma after thought-quickened. 



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